


The Making of the Map

by fox_diaz



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alcohol, Birthday Cake, Canon Compliant, Cartography, Drugs, House Elves, Humor, Longing, M/M, Magic 8-Ball, Marauders, Multi, Murder Mystery, Pranks, Remus Lupin POV, Romance, Sirius Black POV, Snogging, Unforgivable Curses, death eater origin stories, in this house we stan Madam Pomfrey, wolfstar
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-19
Updated: 2020-05-31
Packaged: 2021-03-01 01:00:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 26
Words: 79,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23206621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fox_diaz/pseuds/fox_diaz
Summary: “Alright, men,” James said in a low, important voice. “We are gathered here to create a document of record; a document that shall henceforth be used only for the purposes of mischief-making and fascist-catching; a map of Hogwarts, yes, but also a tribute to who we are. To who we are to this school, and what this school is to us - and who we are to each other. Christ, Peter, you don’t have to put your face so close, I can feel you breathing on me. Ahem - we will use the powers of this map to make the world a better place according to our own judgement, and never show it to another living soul as long as we live. Except Evans, because she’s already fucking seen it. Agreed?”“Agreed,” they all repeated.Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, James Potter and Peter Pettigrew return for their sixth year at Hogwarts.
Relationships: James Potter/Lily Evans Potter, Sirius Black/Remus Lupin
Comments: 521
Kudos: 738





	1. Murder in the Great Hall

They were only an hour into their sixth year, and Peter had already almost murdered a girl. To be fair to him, he was actually trying to flirt with her; she’d probably have preferred a nice, quick death, if he’d given her the choice. 

He had been talking to Sarah McLeavy, a pretty girl from the year below who seemed too nice to tell him to bugger off outright, and James was struggling so hard not to laugh audibly that the potatoes he was eating were attempting a surprise reappearance through his nose. 

“Shut up, shut up,” Sirius hissed, elbowing him as Peter took out his wand. “Don’t ruin this for me. I want to see how it ends.” 

“It- it’s going to-” James attempted a stage whisper and seemed to realise that the potatoes were impeding him. He swallowed them. “It’s going to end with her in the hospital wing.” 

Sirius laughed, and then caught Remus’s eye and bit his lip. Their friend was watching the whole scene unfold with an expression of great suffering. Somehow, that only served to make it funnier. 

“If you’ll just watch here,” Peter was saying, brandishing his wand like a weapon, “I can turn your green beans into flowers.” 

“Don’t try to turn her green beans into flowers, Peter,” Remus said gently, and James snorted into the glass of pumpkin juice he had just been sipping. 

Peter reddened, but ignored them. Sarah was half-distracted, answering a friend on her other side, trying to get back to eating her dinner. He narrowed his eyes, gave a little flourish of his wand, and muttered something the others couldn’t hear; the beans on her plate transformed instantly into daisies, and Sirius looked at James and shrugged with a smirk, proven wrong. 

“Peter-” Remus said with alarm, and when he turned back Sirius immediately understood why; Sarah had a forkful of flowers in one hand and was turning an alarming shade of red, clutching at her throat with her free hand. “She’s choking,” Remus said, getting up and fumbling for his own wand inside his robes. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t - I didn’t-” Peter was just as red as she was, but seemed frozen in place, unable to think or move or be even the slightest bit helpful. 

“Out of my _way_ ,” Sirius was already on his feet and shoved Peter aside, knocking him from the bench entirely. “ _Accio_ daisies!” A thick wad of white petals flew through the air towards him, and at the last moment he directed them to the floor with a flick of his wand. Sarah McLeavy collapsed forward onto the table gasping for air and her friends flocked to her, exclaiming and putting their arms around her protectively. One of them glared over her shoulder at Peter, and he turned towards his friends, crimson and mortified.

“All things considered, I think that probably ranks in your top five chat-up lines, Wormtail,” Sirius said seriously. 

“Oh, God. Oh, Christ. Can we leave? I think I have to leave.” 

“I think that’s probably for the best,” Remus said, his tone rather pained. They all got to their feet, James stuffing bread rolls into his pockets before giving Peter a friendly thump on the shoulder. 

“Well, I’m proud of you, mate. And if you do want to ask her out, I think she’s just about breathing again now.” He gave Peter a thumbs up.

“Hear that, Pettigrew? Breathing, and everything!” Sirius could hear Remus apologising behind them as they walked away, no longer attempting to control their laughter. 

*

Sirius was smoking; and of course, if _Sirius_ was smoking then _James_ wanted to smoke. They’d seen a muggleborn seventh year light up behind a tree at Hogsmeade station and immediately gone to haggle for cigarettes while Remus stared at his shoes and tried to ignore Peter, who was anxiously pulling at his sleeve and whispering about how much trouble they were all going to get into. 

As they lit their cigarettes with little wisps of fire, transported upstairs from the common room in James’s cupped hands, Remus expected there to be some sort of protection that detected smoke - the ceiling infused with an aguamenti charm, perhaps - but nothing happened.

“Good to know that if we set fire to the drapes we’ll be on our own,” he said crossly. 

“It’s so relaxing when you talk, Moony,” James said, leaning back against the windowsill with his eyes closed and exhaling a lungful of smoke. “It’s like a warm hug.” He coughed a little, then cleared his throat and took another drag. 

Sirius wasn’t coughing. You’d think he’d smoked a thousand times in his life, the way he looked so casual doing it, the cigarette dangling from his fingers as he ran the other hand through his long hair and gazed out of the window. 

“They’re terribly bad for you, cigarettes,” Peter piped up from where he was sitting on his bed on the other side of the room, reading a well-thumbed copy of _Which Broomstick?_ from last year. 

“Oh, good. There’s two of them,” Sirius said darkly, and James laughed. Remus did not laugh. They’d been at school an evening and he was already sick of being cast as the killjoy; the _responsible_ one. 

“Give me one of those,” he said, leaning forward and tapping Sirius lightly on the knee. He looked mildly surprised, but carefully extracted another from the breast pocket of his shirt and handed it to Remus, who studied it, suddenly realising that he had no idea what he was supposed to do with it next. 

“You’re holding it the wrong way,” James said, and Remus quickly turned it around and put it to his lips. 

“Come here,” Sirius said, leaning towards him and then pausing to tuck his hair behind his ears when it came dangerously close to being set alight. He leaned in closer and Remus froze, utterly confused by the gesture, until Sirius pressed the lit end of his cigarette to the tip of Remus’s own and took a deep breath in. Remus did the same, and the embers burned white-hot for a moment before the paper caught and Sirius pulled away. His heart racing from whatever was in the damned cigarette, Remus shuffled back to lean against the four-poster and tried to work out if he felt sick or exhilarated. It was a bit of both. 

“You’ve got that look on your face,” Sirius said to James, who immediately frowned back at him. 

“There’s no look,” he said, and Sirius laughed. 

“What does that look say to you, Remus?” 

Remus grinned. “ _Evans_.” 

“Kindly fuck off,” James said, reaching out with one leg to give Remus a half-hearted sort of kick. 

“You know if you need tips, Wormtail’s _really_ got a knack with the ladies,” Sirius said, and they heard Peter sigh dramatically and throw the magazine down onto the bed. 

“I didn’t know it would transfigure the beans in her mouth - I didn’t know she _had_ beans in her mouth-”  
  
“Tell it to the Wizengamot, Peter,” James said, laughing at his own joke until he started coughing again. Remus was letting his own cigarette burn down while avoiding smoking too much of it; Sirius was sucking his down like a starving Dementor going after a soul. 

“She was looking at you during the feast,” Remus said to James, who smiled despite himself. 

“Everybody was looking at us. Peter was quite openly attempting murder,” Sirius said dismissively, and James’s smile wavered. 

“She definitely was. She was talking to Mary Macdonald, but she kept looking down the table at you.” The smile was back. Sirius had to have all of James, all the time; he couldn’t bear the idea that he might disappear off with Lily Evans and ruin their little twosome. Not that Remus thought _that_ likely to happen any time soon; Lily may have been looking at James at dinner, but unless he’d been greatly mistaken she’d rolled her eyes on more than one occasion. 

“Oh _God_ , I’ve got Potions first thing,” Peter said miserably; Remus looked over to see him bent over his schedule. 

“Great, now I’m thinking about Potions,” Sirius said irritably. Remus reached into his pocket for his own schedule and carefully unfolded it. 

“Potions, Charms, free period and then Transfiguration,” he said, and Peter looked a little more hopeful. 

“Same as me! And we’ll all be in Defence Against the Dark Arts together the day after next.” 

“I have no idea how you can walk into _Transfiguration_ with a straight face,” Sirius said. 

“We’ve talked about this. They’re hardly going to give me a NEWT in Transfiguration even if I - I don’t know, transformed in front of them in the exam room. It’s involuntary.” 

“Plus,” said James thoughtfully, “they wouldn’t be able to write down your marks once you’d bitten off their hands.” 

“Damn it, I wish I could show them Padfoot,” Sirius said wistfully. “They’d be so impressed they’d probably hand us the keys to the castle.”  
  
“They’d be so impressed they’d send you to Azkaban,” Remus replied. 

“Is there some sort of charm on that prefect badge that transforms the wearer into an utter prick, Lupin?” Sirius asked, but he was smiling; Remus bit back a smile in response. He was trying not to reward bad behaviour; Sirius was always chasing the reward. 

“Are we going out tonight? I haven’t been keeping track,” James said, and Sirius looked at Remus. 

“When’s full moon?” 

“A week,” Remus said without missing a beat. “Next Wednesday.” 

“Wednesday it is,” James said, as if there had ever been any choice in the matter. Remus shuddered without meaning to, already there in his mind, clawing at the walls of the shack; he saw Sirius glance over at him and looked down at his hands so he wouldn’t have to meet his eye. 

“James, did you remember to pack the new _Hobgoblins_ record?” Sirius asked quickly, and James immediately jumped to his feet to go and rummage in his trunk. 

“Got it,” he said, holding it aloft in triumph. Sirius went to his own trunk and fetched a flask of questionably-procured firewhiskey, demanding that they all present their chipped tea mugs and pouring each of them a generous measure. Peter grumbled about it, but was loath to be left out entirely. 

“To sixth year,” Sirius said, holding his obnoxiously scarlet mug up so they could all clink theirs against it and chorus “to sixth year!” in return. 

“And to us,” James added, grinning around at them all. “May we make it to Christmas with the majority of our limbs intact.”


	2. Severus Snape

Slughorn was loud, and Sirius was hungover. He was trying to nap with his eyes open - a skill he’d almost perfected last year during History of Magic - but Slughorn’s booming, plummy voice kept jolting him awake just as he was slipping into delicious unconsciousness. James was scribbling furiously next to him, and he lifted his head for long enough to try to read what he was writing - James immediately shielded the parchment from him with his arm, and Sirius squinted at him. 

“What’s your damage, Potter?” 

“Go away,” James hissed. He was actually _blushing_. Sirius’s interest was immediately piqued.

“Is it a _love_ letter? Is it for Evans?” He reached over and tried to take it, but James blocked his arm. “Is it filthy?” 

“If you don’t fuck off,” James whispered through gritted teeth, “I’ll charm your wand right up your-”

“Mr Potter? Mr Black?” Slughorn was looking right at them, eyebrows raised. “Do you have questions about the Draught of Living Death, or are you content to sit at the back of my classroom and … wrestle?” There was a scattering of mocking laughter from the Slytherins. Sirius let go of James’s arm, which he had been casually attempting to wrench out of its socket. 

“ _As_ I was saying,” Slughorn continued, “the Draught of Living Death is an extremely potent sleeping draught - those who imbibe it enter a sleep so deep it’s akin to a coma.”

“This lesson is akin to a coma,” Sirius whispered to James, who tried to stay looking annoyed at him and failed. 

“Can anybody tell me why we use an Infusion of Wormwood in this potion?” 

To their left, Severus’s hand shot up. James rolled his eyes at Sirius. 

“Yes, Mr Snape?” 

“Infusion of Wormwood is a sort of magical suspension,” Severus said slowly in his smug, nasally voice. He was so easy to make fun of that it was almost boring, but Sirius was very committed to finding new and unique ways to enjoy it. “It’s used in more advanced potions because it evenly disperses the active ingredient - in this case, the root of asphodel - while being potent enough itself to _infuse_ as well as suspend.” 

“Very good, Severus. Have a house point,” Slughorn said, beaming at him. Severus tucked a greasy lock of hair behind his ear and bent down to write; unless Sirius was mistaken, he was actually scribbling in the margins of his textbook. Edmund Mulciber was sitting on his other side scratching away with his quill too, but he wasn’t writing. Sirius nudged James and nodded over at the Slytherin boy’s notes.

“What a prick,” James whispered, eyes narrowed. Mulciber was slowly and deliberately drawing the outline of a skull; as they watched, he inked a snake unfurling from its mouth, and then as an afterthought added a few stars around the edge for decoration. It was Tom Riddle’s mark; the mark that had been left behind after increasingly frequent attacks on aurors and muggles; the mark that had been carved into the door of a Muggle Studies bookshop in Diagon Alley after the place had been ransacked and almost burnt to the ground. 

“My brother’s been drawing it all over everything,” Sirius muttered darkly. “Nearly broke his arm when I saw it - he’s such a pillock, he’s just copying the rest of them-”

“ _Mr Black_ ,” Slughorn boomed suddenly; Sirius jumped in his seat. “Once again you and Mr Potter seem entirely unable to share a bench without providing a running commentary - switch with Mr Mulciber, please.”  
  
“But - Professor-”  
  
“ _Now_.” Sirius reluctantly got to his feet and picked up his things, spilling ink all over his hands as he did and swearing under his breath. He saw Remus and Peter looking back at him with glum expressions of solidarity. Severus moved over as much as possible without falling off the edge of his seat, and Sirius dropped unceremoniously onto the bench next to him, glowering. He sat silently fuming while Slughorn finished the introductory lecture and then stormed up to get his ingredients, dumping them on the table and flipping through his textbook to find the right page. Severus was lining _his_ ingredients up in neat little rows, leaning down to inspect the sloth’s brain as if he was some sort of innards connoisseur. 

“Nice, well-adjusted pal you’ve got there in Mulciber,” Sirius said quietly as he dropped the wormwood into his cauldron. “So great you two found each other.” 

Severus kept his gaze fixed on his potion, but Sirius could see that his words were having the intended effect by the slight tightening of his eyes. 

“Makes a change from you following Lily Evans around like a lost puppy,” Sirius said, getting a little closer to him. “Sorry, not a puppy, what was I thinking - a lost sack of shit.” 

Severus’s hands tightened around his ladle and he took a deep, steadying breath in and out through his nose, but still didn’t say anything. 

“If I hear that you’re bringing my brother along on your little adventures with your fascist friends-” at this Severus did look up, and his face broke into a sneer. 

“Your brother,” he said quietly, “is his own man. I certainly hold no sway over him. In fact, I’ve been quite shocked at some of the things he comes up with - very _inventive_ , your family, when it comes to dealing with _mudblood scum_ -” 

Sirius was going to punch him. His arm was already half raised, Severus was already flinching away from him, but suddenly Remus was there pushing his fist back down to his side with an iron grip. 

“Later,” Remus said quietly in his ear. Sirius struggled against him, and Remus’s grip on him only tightened further. “It’s the first day of term, Sirius.” 

Sirius took a deep, frustrated breath and then stopped resisting. Remus let him go and walked back to his own bench. Slughorn was bent over another student’s cauldron critiquing their stirring technique, and hadn’t noticed the scuffle. 

They finished their potions in silence, Sirius unable to look at Severus directly in case he was still smirking in that particularly punchable way of his. He noticed that Severus kept stopping, adjusting, making little notes on his textbook; Sirius was itching to say something, to poke at him, _hurt_ him, but Remus was right. It was the first day of term. He had a whole year of Potions with the Slytherins to survive; a whole year to find ways to get at Severus Snape without risking expulsion. 

When Slughorn came to inspect their potions, Severus got ten house points and a heartfelt handshake; Sirius received an obviously disappointed tilt of the head. He didn’t care. He couldn’t stand to be in this room for one more second. The bell rang and he swept his things into his bag and stormed out of the room with James. Peter and Remus hurried to keep up. 

“How was Mulciber?” he asked, and James looked grim. 

“Creepy. _Way_ too interested in that sloth’s brain,” he glanced back over his shoulder to check who was nearby. “Saw you trying to deck Severus.” 

“Moony wouldn’t let me.”  
  
“Shame.”  
  
“It is _not_ a shame,” Remus said from behind them, where he was walking with Peter. 

Charms should have been interesting - they were studying nonverbal spells, something Sirius had always wanted to be able to do - but it was hard to focus on the incantations with Severus’s words bouncing around in his head. Things had been getting worse and worse at home over the summer - arguments without fail at mealtimes, scuffles with Regulus every time their paths crossed - but he had clung desperately to the idea that Regulus wasn’t truly evil, just a follower. Just a young boy with terrible role models all around him; his house at home, his house at school. The thought that he wasn’t just tagging along with his cousin and Snape and the rest of their cronies - that he might actually be planning to _harm_ people because of their blood status - it was hideous, and Sirius felt powerless to stop it. It didn’t matter how many times he and Regulus fought, or duelled, or spat cruel words at each other in the hallways - some part of him still loved him, still wanted to bring him to the light - but his brother already seemed set on a very dark path indeed. 

His mood stayed thunderous over lunch, and as rain had started to tap at the windows they all went up to the common room afterwards for their free period. Just being there lightened the load a little; the glow from the fireplace, the quiet laughter and chatter from the other Gryffindors, the absolutely _hilarious_ expression on James’s face when he saw that Lily Evans was sitting by herself reading a textbook by the fire, her auburn hair incandescent in the flickering light. 

“We’ll just get nice and warm, shall we?” he said, raising an eyebrow at James who widened his eyes and shook his head vigorously. Remus was biting his lip to keep from laughing. Sirius led them over to the other chairs by the fire despite James’s silent protests and they all sat down; he saw Lily’s eyes flick up from her work briefly before settling back on the page, but he could tell that she wasn’t paying attention any more. 

“Terrible weather we’re having,” Remus said to Sirius with a perfectly straight face. Lily looked up at him, unamused, and slammed her book shut. 

“Can I help you?” she asked icily. 

“We’re just here to enjoy the fire, same as you,” Sirius said jovially.

“I _was_ enjoying the fire,” Lily replied. James looked as if he felt a bit sick. They’d been on extremely thin ice at the end of last year, but ever since she’d found out about the incident with Severus and the Shrieking Shack - not that she knew the details, of course - she’d softened ever-so-slightly in his favour. James was on his best behaviour, trying very hard not to lose any gained ground. 

“Mulciber was drawing dark marks all over his Potions notes,” he said quickly, and it was a very effective change of subject; Lily immediately looked furious, but not at him. 

“That little bastard. Probably thinks it’s funny, or _edgy_ \- never mind what it really means. Did you hear about Anna Adley’s mum?” 

“No,” said Sirius, suddenly genuinely interested in this exchange. 

“She’s not even an auror, she works at the Improper Use of Magic office - she was sent to investigate a spell used in front of muggles, something relatively innocuous, but by the time she got there they’d used plenty more and nobody had been able to warn her before she apparated. They were dead, the muggles. They’d been tortured. And Riddle was there himself.”

“Did she-” Remus asked, clearing his throat. “Was she-?” 

“She’s alive, just. Riddle tortured her, too. She only survived because he likes to take his time,” she shuddered and pulled down on the sleeves of her jumper so they covered more of her hands. “About twenty aurors apparated in at the same time, and he got away.” 

“Fucking _hell_ ,” James said quietly. “Is Anna here? At school?”  
  
“No,” Lily said, glancing around to see if anyone else was listening. “I heard it from Rebecca Budden. Anna’s at St Mungo’s with her family. Her mum’s gone into some sort of catatonic state. Rebecca said-” she broke off here for a second and winced, anticipating her own words. “Rebecca said they carved the dark mark into her chest.” 

They all sat silently with the horror of this for a moment.

“Doesn’t it feel odd,” Remus said slowly, “to just be sitting around at school as if nothing’s happening?”

“Hogwarts is the safest place to be,” Peter said, sounding shaken. “The protective charms at Hogwarts-”  
  
“I’m not worried about _them_ coming _here_ ,” Remus said impatiently. “I feel like we should be out there, doing something - I don’t know, doing something useful.”  
  
“The most useful thing any of us can do is work hard and get qualified, so we’re skilled and ready to help the ministry as soon as we leave school,” Lily said firmly. 

“That’s all very well, but I reckon they’re _already_ here,” said Sirius, his voice rising. “Mulciber’s drawing dark marks in hearts on everything he owns like he wants to shag Riddle, Bellatrix is going off the deep end in a very big way, even for her, and I don’t think it’s a joke. I think they’re gutted they can’t be out there already torturing people and murdering them-”  
  
“Keep your voice down,” Remus said quickly. People were starting to look over at them. The sense of unease that had been growing every year since they started at Hogwarts was permeating everything, but it felt important to prevent it from devolving into all-out panic. 

“All I’m saying,” Sirius said, bringing the volume down a notch, “is that I don’t think we need to leave school to bump into followers of Riddle’s little cult. They’re schoolboys now, but we’ll all be of age in a year, and I’d bet my last galleon they’ll be running off to join him as soon as they can.”  
  
“And making as much trouble here as they can in the meantime,” James said gravely, and Sirius nodded. 

“You should have heard Severus today-” he started, and then realised his mistake. Lily’s face was instantly blank and impassive; she got to her feet as James threw wildly accusatory looks in his direction. 

“I don’t want to talk about Severus,” she said, before picking up her book and walking off in the direction of the stairs to the dormitories. 

“Nice one, Sirius,” James said bitterly. 

“Oh, _sorry_ , Prongs - did our discussion about the collapse of wizarding society into murderous fascism interrupt your _date_?” 

James sat back in his chair looking thoroughly annoyed. “It did, actually. Thanks for noticing.” 


	3. Miscalculations

The full moon seemed to come much sooner than strictly necessary, as it always did; Remus had been burying himself in homework as a distraction and trying to ignore Sirius and James, who kept asking him to join them for more illicit drinks, or for quick jaunts under James’s cloak, or to open his mouth while he was studying so they could see how many Every Flavour Beans they could throw into it from across the dormitory. The new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, Professor Weaver, was clearly trying to exhaust them into submission; they had left every class with a new two-foot essay to write, and Remus had taken to carrying rolls of parchment around with him at all times so that he could scribble away at lunch and in every free period. 

“Do you want me to tie your essay to your neck with a bit of string in case inspiration strikes in the Shack?” Sirius asked as they sat in the common room after dinner on Wednesday, Remus trying and failing to concentrate on the particulars of shield charms. 

“No, but if you’ve got some string to hand I might ask James to garrote you with it,” Remus said without looking up. 

“Happy to help,” James said obligingly. He and Peter were working on their own essays; Sirius was the only one who seemed entirely unconcerned. The common room was empty. Most people were taking their time at dinner, whereas the four of them had shovelled down their food and rushed back to get some work done before Remus’s transformation. They worked in silence for a while longer, broken only by the sound of the fire crackling in the grate and Sirius’s dramatic sighs. 

“Isn’t it time to go?” He was restless; he actually seemed to look forward to full moons, and Remus couldn’t help but find it a tad annoying. “Moon’s up soon.”  
  
“We’ve been over this,” Remus said, flipping through the pages of his textbook to look for a source. “I’ve got it timed perfectly and I don’t intend to spend a second longer than necessary in that prime piece of real estate.” 

“Have you ever thought about putting up new curtains?” James asked. “Maybe put some pictures on the walls. Get a lava lamp. Really make it your own.” 

“You’re terribly funny,” Remus said, unsmiling. “Why don’t you hang back tonight and repeat those suggestions after the moon’s up? See if I’m in the mood for renovating?” 

“I still think we should leave you a chew toy,” said Peter. “Might help you relieve some of that frustration.” 

“Or maybe find you a _lady_ werewolf. That’d do the same trick,” James said. Remus kept writing; he was _so_ close to finishing this essay.

“How can you tell the difference between a male werewolf and a female werewolf once they’ve transformed?” Peter asked with interest. 

“Female werewolves wear little bows on their heads so nobody gets confused,” Sirius said, flashing a grin at Remus before jumping to his feet. “Come on. Let’s go.” 

“Have you got your cloak, James?” Remus asked, admitting defeat and screwing the top back on his ink pot. 

“Oh - no, I’ll go and get it,” he replied, stretching his arms so that his spine cracked loudly. “Peter, give me your things. Do you want me to take your bag, Remus?” 

“Yeah, thanks,” Remus stuffed his belongings into his bag and handed it to James, who disappeared up the stairs to the dormitories two at a time. When he came back he had the invisibility cloak draped casually over one shoulder, which gave him the alarming appearance of having been cut in half. 

Remus glanced over at the portrait hole; they were still alone, and it was easiest for all except Peter to stay human until they reached the grounds. They hadn’t bothered with the cloak at all when they’d first started making this trip, but after a few too many questions from other students about their evening strolls - and Peter’s complete inability to lie without looking like he’d swallowed a mouthful of Pepper Imps - Remus preferred to make the entire journey without running into anybody. 

“Step into my office,” James said, holding the cloak up over his head; Peter started towards him and transformed mid-step, the momentum carrying him forwards on four tiny paws as he bounded over to James and leapt up onto his shoulder. Sirius held the cloak open for Remus and then they let it fall around them; they were all getting a bit too tall to fit without crouching. There had been a lot of knocked elbows, stubbed toes and whispered swearing last year, and Sirius seemed to have grown a few more inches over the summer. 

They made very slow progress out of the common room and down the corridor; Remus’s very precise timing hadn’t accounted for the fact that they were all deeply out of practice from a summer spent apart. They had just reached the first staircase when Sirius swore under his breath. 

“Haven’t got my cigarettes,” he said. Remus looked at him incredulously. 

“You’re going to be a dog. You don’t need _cigarettes_.” 

“I’m not going to be a dog the whole time. Just wait here for me a minute,” he glanced up and down the corridor and then ducked out from under the cloak, running back towards the portrait hole. Remus could have killed him - and if they waited too long, his murderous thoughts were in danger of becoming a reality.

“This is ridiculous,” Remus said. James shrugged, the whole cloak rising and falling with his shoulders. As the seconds ticked by, Remus got more and more agitated; he could hear people walking the corridors now, heading back to their dormitories for the evening. “Where _is_ he?” 

The portrait swung open and Sirius leapt out from behind it, cigarettes clutched in his hand. “Sorry, sorry,” he said, getting back under the cloak as Remus glared at him. 

They had almost made it to the entrance hall when they encountered another problem. Students were crammed into the corridor, staring up at the ceiling with interest. As they got closer, they saw why; Peeves the poltergeist had pilfered ink from somewhere and was using it to write poorly spelled swear words across the ceiling. Filch rounded the opposite corner and pushed through the crowd, shouting up at him to stop. 

“Shan’t,” Peeves said firmly, dipping a ghostly finger back into the inkwell and looking at his canvas thoughtfully.

“Peeves,” Filch bellowed, “I am warning you-”  
  
“Alright, alright, grant me one little favour Argus and I shall cease immediately,” Peeves said, whirling around and splattering those nearest him with ink. It was so clearly a trick that Remus was surprised when Filch nodded. 

Peeves put a hand to his chin as if he were deep in thought. “How do you spell … _bellend?_ ” The crowd erupted into laughter; Remus threw James a panicked glance. 

“We won’t get through this lot unnoticed, we need to go back and take the longer way,” he whispered. James nodded, and they turned back the way they’d come. Remus’s heart was starting to pound uncomfortably; with either Peeves’s or Sirius’s interruptions alone they would have been fine, but combined, they were cutting it far too fine for comfort. They could ditch the cloak and make a run for it, but they couldn’t appear out of thin air with so many people around; James’s cloak was one of their most closely-guarded secrets. After his own transformations. And the fact that the rest of them were unregistered Animagi. It was exhausting sometimes, having quite so many secrets. 

“Nearly there,” Sirius said as they approached one of the side doors; Remus knew he was just saying it to try to assuage his own guilt, and didn’t feel like helping him out. As soon as they were out in the cool night air he felt some of the tension leave his body; he checked his watch almost absent-mindedly, and all of his new-found calm evaporated. 

“We have five minutes,” he said urgently. “ _We’re not going to make it._ ” 

The others didn’t reply, but they did speed up; the Whomping Willow felt an age away. Remus’s breath was coming fast and shallow and he could feel sweat beading on the back of his neck despite the breeze. He knew he wouldn’t transform until the moon rose but he felt like he was already fighting it with every step, anticipating what was to come. 

They had just reached the Whomping Willow when he felt it; pins pricking the tips of his fingers and toes, every nerve ending on high alert as the very cells of his body began to change shape. He stopped dead, looking down at his hands.

“Shit,” James said, looking over at Sirius. 

“ _Go_ , Peter!” Sirius almost knocked him off James’s shoulder in his haste; Peter darted through the ominously swaying branches of the tree and quickly pressed the knot that would allow them to enter the tunnel unharmed. They made it to the narrow entrance, and Remus could see Peter watching from a few feet inside, standing up on his hind legs, his whiskers quivering. He could see him _too_ clearly for how dark it was. It was already too late. 

“Get back,” he said, throwing the cloak off and stumbling away from the others. 

“We have to get to the Shack, Remus,” James said slowly, reaching out to take his arm, trying to guide him towards the tree. 

“Get _away_ from me,” Remus pushed him off as he felt a spasm of pain ripple through his body and he bent forwards, bracing his hands against his knees, staring at the ground. He willed himself to stay here, stay himself, just like he did every other month; and just like every other month, his body wasn’t listening. He couldn’t walk; he couldn’t do anything except feel the pain. The immediacy of it. The feeling of every single muscle and sinew in his body stretching to breaking point - and then actually breaking, reforming, becoming something new. 

“Oh _fuck_ ,” Sirius said, and he felt hands on his back, both of them trying to push him forwards. “Stay with us. Fight it, Remus!” 

“ _You_ ,” Remus growled through gritted teeth, blinded by the agony and turning instinctively towards Sirius’s voice, “and your _fucking cigarettes_.” The pain narrowed to a single shard buried somewhere deep in his skull - he threw his hands to his forehead in an attempt to contain it, and then he was gone.

*

They managed to get him through the hole and into the tunnel just in time. Admittedly they had never attempted to get him in after the moon had risen, but the whole arrangement relied on the fact that he couldn’t fit through the entrance once he had transformed. They stepped back and Sirius eyed the tree apprehensively, thinking that they were about to test that theory. There was an eerie moment of silence - and then they heard a deep, guttural growl.

“Peter’s in there,” James said, looking ashen. 

“He’ll be fine, he’ll - he’ll run to the Shack and escape through one of the walls,” said Sirius, sounding more confident than he felt. The growling was getting louder; he saw movement from inside the tunnel and a pair of enormous yellow eyes came into view, staring straight out at him.

“Padfoot, I-” James started, but before he could finish Remus threw himself at the other side of the tunnel entrance, slashing at it with his claws, trying to tear his way out. His eyes were still fixed on Sirius. The Whomping Willow was tough, but he wasn’t sure how much of this it could stand. Remus had never been in the tunnel when he’d transformed before; they’d never had to consider it. The werewolf let out a frustrated howl and paused for a second, panting. 

“ _Peter_ ,” Sirius shouted, taking the chance while there was still a hope that he’d be heard. “Peter, you need to - you have to lead him down to the Shack!”  
  
It took a moment, but Peter seemed to have heard him; Remus had started throwing himself at the trunk again, but Sirius heard a scuffling sound inside, and the assault stilled as Remus disappeared from view. Silence; and then the sound of large paws pounding against the tunnel floor and the shrill, distant shriek of a rat. 

“I should go for help,” James said, already backing away. “He’ll kill him.” 

Sirius glanced back up at the castle and then at the tree; he could barely think, panic coursing through him in waves. Peter might make it to the Shack in time. Or he might not. “No, he’ll get expelled, just - don’t go for help unless you absolutely have to. Okay? Unless you _have_ to, James!” He threw his cigarettes to the ground, stepped towards the tunnel and transformed. It was quick, painless; like whatever he had been before had simply been poured into a new mould. Immediately he could smell the damp grass, the tunnel, the path the rat had taken ahead of him; and the strange, heady musk that still set all the fur on his body on end. _Werewolf_. 

He leapt into the passageway and followed the familiar route, ears straining for sounds of violence; he could hear Remus panting and whining up ahead, but Wormtail’s squeals had ceased. It was too small in here for a werewolf; the walls were scored with claw marks and fresh patches of dirt where he’d had to force his way through. When the tunnel started to curve upwards he slowed down, trying to stay silent; as if it mattered. Remus could smell him from a mile away. He could only hope that Wormtail had distracted him so thoroughly that he’d have the element of surprise. 

He couldn’t smell any blood. He held onto that thought as he crept slowly up into the Shack, every sense on high alert. Remus wasn’t in the first room, but he could hear him in the next, scrabbling fervently at something. Padfoot reached the doorway just as Wormtail took a flying leap from the top of a collapsing bookshelf and landed on a broken slat of siding at the top of the wall; he disappeared through the gap in the wood and out into the night, his pink tail whipping out of sight just as Remus made one last lunge at him. 

Wormtail was fine. Padfoot, on the other hand, was trapped.

He realised far too late that he hadn’t thought this through. The Shack had no doors - there were windows, but he knew that Dumbledore had reinforced them and charmed them firmly shut. He tried to take a step back towards the tunnel, but Remus’s head whipped around immediately. Padfoot turned, tried to run for it, but it was no use; a huge weight crashed into him, knocking all the air from his lungs, and he had to wriggle blindly out from underneath it as enormous jaws snapped for his throat. 

He was smaller and faster than Remus, but that wouldn’t get him very far in here. His only hope was to make it to the passage, but Remus was blocking the doorway, preparing to pounce. There was no avoiding it. They threw themselves at each other, Padfoot trying to get his teeth around Remus’s front leg, desperately attempting to disable him in some way; the werewolf was going for the kill. He felt a paw smash into his shoulder and pain tore through him - heard a high-pitched whimper that must have been his own - he managed to roll away to the side but he was backed into a corner now, and Remus was rounding on him again. 

When he heard a voice from nearby, he thought he was imagining it. Someone was calling his name through the window. It was _James._

“Sirius - _close your eyes._ ” He didn’t stop to think, he just did it - and a moment later blinding white light was flooding the room, visible even through his closed eyelids. He heard Remus shriek and stumble away from him. Without hesitation he barrelled past, running for the tunnel, relying on the musty smell of damp earth to guide him; he felt the floorboards turn to dirt beneath his paws and opened his eyes, running faster than he ever had in his life, sprinting the full length of the passageway. His lungs were burning in his chest, the wound on his shoulder unbearable, but he didn’t stop until he leapt free of the Whomping Willow - the branches were mobile again and they lashed out at him, but missed - and collapsed in a heap just out of its range. 

He didn’t know how long he lay there, struggling to catch his breath, before he heard hooves pounding on the lawn; they became footsteps and James burst into view, running full pelt towards him, Peter clinging on to his shoulder for dear life. 

When he saw Sirius he put a hand to his chest in sheer relief and then stumbled forward and dropped to the ground beside him, panting hard. Sirius tentatively stretched his limbs and then transformed, feeling the wound in his shoulder anew as he slipped back into his human body. 

“What was that?” he asked, wincing as he attempted to sit up. 

James had his head between his legs. “Lumos,” he said, still trying to catch his breath, “ _maxima._ He’s - he’s nocturnal.” 

“Right,” Sirius said. “Thanks.” Peter transformed too and sat down next to them, shaking. He was glaring at Sirius. 

He tried to ignore him, but couldn’t. “ _What_ , Wormtail?” 

“I know you won’t want to hear this,” he said sternly, “but I _really_ think you ought to quit smoking.”


	4. A Whiskey Summons

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Please do leave a comment/kudos/bookmark/share with your pals if you’re enjoying it. I’ll try to keep putting a chapter up every evening (UK time) but that does rely on me writing a chapter a day so there’s a good chance that I’ll slip off the bandwagon.

It took weeks for Remus to start talking to him again, and even then, he wasn’t _really_ talking to him. He would acknowledge that Sirius had spoken; pass him the potatoes at dinner; do everything but meet his eye and actually _engage_ with him. It was infuriating. 

When they’d gone to get him after the moon had set, he’d been limping slightly - clearly Sirius had managed to get a better grip on his leg than he’d thought in the tussle - but he seemed generally unbothered by it, waving Peter away when he tried to help him. Sirius’s injury, on the other hand, seemed to bother Remus quite a bit. He had an impressive set of gashes in his shoulder that wouldn’t stop bleeding no matter how many spells James and Peter had attempted on it between midnight and dawn, and when Remus clambered back out of the Whomping Willow and saw his friend pressing his school jumper to a shirt still wet with fresh blood he’d looked like he was about to be sick.

“I’ve had worse,” Sirius said, trying to lighten the mood. 

“No, you haven’t,” Remus said through gritted teeth. 

“Well, this is why we transform, isn’t it? Nobody’s dead, nobody’s been bitten. All managed to scamper away just fine. Really it’s just a reminder of our genius.” 

“Go to the hospital wing,” Remus said slowly, ignoring this. He sounded extremely angry; Sirius couldn’t tell if it was directed at him, or inwards at himself. 

“I’d actually rather not, if it’s all the same to you,” Sirius said, pressing the jumper a little more firmly onto his wound and trying not to wince. “I know Madam Pomfrey’s in on your little secret but if I waltz in there and tell her you tried to take my arm off she might have a _few_ reservations about you staying here-”

“We would have been _fine_ , Sirius, if you hadn’t gone back to the dormitory,” Remus shouted, finally losing it. “I told you I had it timed, I had it all under control, and because of you I was nearly let loose on the grounds - I nearly killed Peter, I nearly killed _you_ , and you think it’s all a joke! Just another story to tell about what _larks_ we have at full moon.” 

“Oh, delightful, so no ‘ _thank_ you, Sirius, for making sure it was all okay’-”

Remus stepped in closer to him, his eyes flashing. “ _Thank you_ very much, Sirius,” he said, his voice dripping with venom. “Thank you for endangering all of us. Thank you for proving yet again that everybody else is expendable as long as you get to do whatever the hell you want.” 

He had attempted to storm away from them but been hindered by his leg and forced to do a sort of angry hobble up the slope towards the castle. 

“What a prick,” Sirius said, removing the jumper to see if he was still bleeding profusely. He was. 

“Yeah,” Peter said, unconvincingly. James said nothing. Sirius looked over at him expectantly, and he just shrugged.

“I mean, it wasn’t your finest hour,” he said, and Sirius rolled his eyes.

“You can all gang up on me later when I’m not dying of blood loss,” he said bitterly. “Give me the cloak. I want to go to bed.” 

He’d bled up in the dormitory for another two hours, getting paler and paler as Peter and James tried everything they could think of to get it to stop - eventually Peter had disappeared to the library and come back victorious with _Vulnera Sanentur_ , a strange chanting spell that not only stemmed the flow but also seemed to send some of the blood on Sirius’s clothes back into his body. The others had gone to class with strict instructions to say that he had a fever - anybody who’d come to investigate would have had no trouble believing he was ill - while he tried to get some rest. Remus hadn’t come back to the dormitory at all until that evening, and hadn’t said a word to Sirius as he pulled the curtains around his four-poster tightly shut. 

Things stayed tense all through the rest of September. When the full moon came again at the beginning of October, Sirius stayed in the common room playing a rowdy game of Wizard’s Chess with Dirk Cresswell from the year below, and pretended he didn’t notice when the portrait seemed to inch open of its own accord. Their workload seemed to double again in October, and it meant that they were spending an unusual amount of time actually _doing homework_ ; usually he would have complained, but it was far easier to be ignored by Remus when he could pretend it was because they were all studying so hard than it would have been otherwise. 

They were rarely alone together - and when they were Remus always found an excuse to leave urgently - but once Sirius managed to catch him walking back up to the dormitory after Potions, James having left for Quidditch practice and Peter to the library. 

“This disappearing act is getting old,” he said, falling into step with Remus, who jumped at the sound of his voice. “Generations of wizards have worked their arses off to distance themselves from cheap party magicians, Moony. You’ve undone it all in a month.” 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Remus said, not meeting his eye. Sirius stepped in front of him and forced him to stop. 

“Seriously. Get over yourself and talk to me.” 

“I am talking to you.”  
  
“No you’re fucking not,” Sirius said, but he stepped aside to let Remus pass. He walked away without a backwards glance. 

As Halloween approached, the atmosphere in sixth-year lessons began to feel a little hysterical. They were all starting to crack under the pressure of the NEWT curriculum, and the 31st of October loomed large in everybody’s minds as a chance to take a break and let loose. The novelty of Hogsmeade visits had worn off for a lot of the olders students, so Sirius was one of the few in their year who tagged along for the trip the day beforehand, for the sole purpose of slipping a dishwasher at The Hog’s Head a fistful of galleons in exchange for two rather nice bottles of Blishen's Finest Firewhiskey. He charmed them to his legs and tried to walk slowly back up to the castle so that nobody could hear the sloshing; luckily the enormous gamekeeper was on security detail, and was giving students no more than a cursory non-magical pat-down. 

“Alright, Hagrid?” Sirius asked, mostly to keep the half-giant’s attention on his face. 

“Can’t complain,” Hagrid said, grinning back at him from beneath a bushy beard. 

“How’s the new job treating you? Can’t imagine you’re missing Ogg much.” Hagrid had been the apprentice gamekeeper until his predecessor had retired; since his promotion last year, he’d taken to wearing the enormous ring of Hogwarts keys around his neck like a medallion. 

“You imagine correct,” Hagrid said, patting Sirius’s pockets and then nodding him through the gates. “I’m my own master now. Thinking about getting a dog.”  
  
“I _love_ dogs,” Sirius said, smiling back at him and giving him a quick salute before heading up the path to school. 

The next morning he was the first out of bed. He attempted to wake the others up by clearing his throat loudly, and when that didn’t work, picked up a metal camping cup and rapped it loudly against the heater. 

“For _fuck’s sake_ , Pads,” James said as they all sat up and peered blearily at him from around the room. 

“And a very Happy Halloween to you too.” 

“What are you doing?” Remus’s hair was sticking up on end, as if he’d slept badly. Sirius was a little startled to be addressed by him directly; he must have still been half-asleep. 

“I have a proposition for you all,” he said, raising an eyebrow. “I propose ... that we skip the feast.”  
  
“Skip the feast? Sirius, no, there’s going to be a band. And sticky toffee pudding.” 

“You make a stirring argument, Wormtail, but consider this,” he reached under his bed and then presented the bottles of firewhiskey to them with a flourish. 

“You have my attention,” James said, getting up to take one and inspect it. “Shit, this is _nice_.” 

“Kindly financed by esteemed fuckheads Orion and Walburga Black; not that they knew anything about it.” 

“So, what, we stay up here instead?” James said, sitting back down on the end of his bed. 

“ _Well_ , that brings me to the second part of my proposition,” Sirius opened his trunk and produced a stack of colourful boxes. 

“What are they?” asked Peter, squinting at them from where he was still sitting under the covers. 

“ _These_ ,” Sirius said proudly, “are muggle magic. This one predicts the future,” he handed a square box to James and picked up another, “and _this_ one summons ghosts.” 

“We have ghosts,” James said, opening the box and pulling out a black ball about the size of a bludger. “Some might say too _many_ ghosts. I don’t fancy adding to the infestation. How does this tell the future?” 

“I have no idea,” Sirius said, dumping the other games on his bed and retrieving the box from James to study the instructions. Peter came padding over to have a look too. “You have to ask it a question and then shake it.” 

“Alright,” James lifted the ball and addressed it directly. “Has Padfoot misplaced what little remained of his sanity?” He shook it vigorously, and then smirked and turned it around so that Sirius could see the answer. “All signs point to yes.” 

“This one says it’s a turn-based properties and real-estate game,” Peter said, lifting the lid so they could all read the title: _Monopoly._

“You’re missing the point,” Sirius said, grabbing the most elaborate-looking box from the bed and holding it up - it was actually wood, not cardboard, and had a satisfying weight to it. “Let’s go to the forest, get drunk and play with weird muggle shit. All those in favour, say aye. All those opposed, fuck off.” 

“Two equally attractive choices,” Remus said, getting up and heading off towards the bathrooms. 

Sirius took the ball from James and put it back in its box. “Whatever. We’re doing it.” 

*

It was actually quite funny watching Remus try to ignore him while they were all crammed under the invisibility cloak. At one point Sirius stood on his foot on purpose, and Remus responded by elbowing him hard in the ribs. It was more than a little pathetic to be pleased about this, but Remus hadn’t touched him at all since they’d been trying to tear pieces out of each other in the Shack; it wasn’t that he touched him a lot normally, but the absence of any contact at all had still felt like a loss. 

They moved against the flow of students who were all streaming down to the feast, and soon the corridors were empty. The sky was clear, the moon flooding the grounds with light; it wouldn’t be full for another week, but he felt Remus glance up at it and tense at the sight. When they reached the trees at the outskirts of the forest they pulled off the cloak and Peter transformed back into a human. 

“I really don’t like this forest,” he said nervously, rushing to stay in the middle of the pack as they walked. 

“Don’t worry,” said James, clapping a hand on his shoulder. “There’s nothing in here more terrifying than Remus, and you share a dormitory with him.” 

They walked until the warm light streaming out from the windows of the castle was a faint, distant glow, and then sat down in a clearing ringed with gnarled tree roots. Sirius opened the first bottle of firewhiskey and took a large gulp, wiping his mouth on his sleeve and passing it to James on his left. He expected Remus to pass, and was surprised when he drank deeply. 

“Okay,” he said, taking out the heavy wooden box as Peter took a sip from the bottle and tried to disguise his disgust. He placed the board in the middle of their circle and picked up the instructions. “This is something that muggles call an Ouija board. We have to wait until we feel contact from _the beyond_ and all put a finger on this thing - it’s called a planchette, for some reason - and we ask the spirits a question. Apparently they’ll move the planchette to the letters and spell out an answer.” 

“We should have just given it to Peeves and watched him spell out _cockwomble_ in response to anything we asked,” James said, taking out a bag of liquorice wands and offering them round.

“I’ll thank you to take this seriously,” Sirius said, taking a wand and having to swallow it quickly when Peter handed him the firewhiskey again. He took a few quick gulps; it burned pleasantly in his chest. “Let’s close our eyes and shut up, so we don’t frighten the wee ghosties away.”  
  
“Are you going to ask us to hold hands, too?” James said mockingly, but he closed his eyes obligingly.

“You’d be so lucky, Potter,” Sirius said. When they’d all done as instructed, he closed his eyes too. The forest had felt deathly silent all around them while they’d been talking, but now he could hear how very alive it was. There was no wind, but they could hear movement all around them; an owl hooting in the distance, the flapping of wings, scattered bursts of rustling as unseen creatures ran across the forest floor. 

They sat like this for a few minutes, only moving to pass the bottle around. 

“Okay,” Sirius said. “Do you feel anything?” 

“No,” said James. “But that’s probably because my arse has gone completely numb.” 

“Maybe we should go back to the feast,” Peter said, and Sirius rolled his eyes. 

“If you need to be a rat right now, Wormtail, just do it. You can have a kip in my bag and I’ll wake you up when we’re back at school.”  
  
“I don’t need to be a rat,” Peter said stubbornly. 

“Okay, good,” Sirius said, leaning forward over the board. “Put your fingers on the thing.”  
  
“Planchette,” Remus corrected him. 

“Bless you,” said James. 

Only once they’d got into position did Sirius realise that they hadn’t decided on a question. 

“What are you supposed to ask a ghost?” 

“I don’t know. ‘How are you?’” said James. 

“I’m not sitting out here all night waiting for a ghost to spell out ‘not great, thanks, I’m dead’,” said Remus. Sirius laughed, and Remus caught his eye and smiled. Maybe it was just the firewhiskey - or maybe he’d genuinely started to thaw. 

“Let’s ask ‘why are you here?’” Sirius said decisively. “Short, to the point, really gets to the heart of things. You say it, Peter.” 

“Fine,” Peter said, sighing miserably. They all put their fingers back on the planchette. “Why are you here?” 

“Say it a little louder, Wormtail. They won’t hear you on the other side of the veil if you mutter.” 

“ _Why are you here?”_ Peter shouted. Sirius bit his lip so he wouldn’t laugh. They waited; for a moment nothing happened, and then the planchette began to move.

“Are you doing that?” Remus asked, looking up at Sirius.

“Of course I’m not fucking doing it,” Sirius said as the board spelled out ‘Y’, and then ‘O’. “I am literally a wizard. I’m not pretending to move a bit of wood around on a muggle board game to get my kicks.” 

“Y’ - ‘O’ -,” James read as their hands continued to move. “‘I’ - ‘Z’? Wait, ‘Z’? What the hell does ‘yoiz’ mean?” 

“Maybe it’s French,” said Peter. The planchette seemed to have a moment of indecision, and then slid back over to ‘Z’ again. 

“Well this has been illuminating,” James said, taking his finger away to eat another liquorice wand. “Give me the magic ball thing again, I want to ask it more questions.” 

They all took their hands off the board and Sirius fetched the ball from its box. “Don’t worry, I’ll do it for you - _is Evans going to invite me for a shag in the Potions cupboard before Christmas?_ ” He shook the ball. “Oh, look, all hope isn’t lost - it says ‘ask again later’.” 

They abandoned the games and sat drinking and talking, Sirius feeling himself getting more and more drunk by the minute. Remus looked more relaxed than Sirius had seen him since the start of the school year. He was leaning back on his elbows, making jokes, laughing as Peter did uncannily accurate impressions of all the teachers. When Sirius passed him a packet of crisps Remus nodded at him in thanks, and didn’t even flinch away when their fingers brushed. So that was something. 

As it got later, they started to feel the cold even through their protective layers of winter robes and whiskey. James started shivering, and Sirius glanced at his watch. 

“Almost midnight. We should head back.” They got to their feet and started gathering their things; the second bottle of firewhiskey was half-empty, and it took Sirius two attempts to charm it into concealment inside his robes. They were just starting the walk back up to the castle when Sirius felt a very strange sensation; it was as close and insistent as if someone had pressed a freezing cold hand to the back of his neck. Goosebumps erupted all over his body. Distantly, he registered that the wind had picked up, as if from nowhere. 

“Guys,” he started, “do you feel-”

“What the fuck is that?” James said, sounding genuinely rattled. They turned back and Sirius saw that there was something moving in the clearing they’d just vacated; it looked like a very faint spot of light, but it was getting larger and brighter. 

“Is it - is that a pixie?” Peter said nervously.

“Let’s find out,” said Sirius, sounding a little braver than he felt. He led them back to the clearing, stopping a few feet away from whatever was floating there. 

“Have we actually summoned something?” asked James incredulously. 

“We didn’t need to _summon_ it,” Remus said. “Ghosts are everywhere. It probably just lives here.”  
  
“Ask it your question, Peter,” Sirius said, relaxing a bit now. Of course there were weird things in the Forbidden Forest; that was why it wasn’t called the Totally Chill and Fine Forest. 

“Do I have to?” Peter said. 

“Yes,” they all said in unison. 

“Okay, okay - _why are you here?”_ he said, raising his voice just a little. 

To everybody’s surprise, it answered straight away, in a voice that simultaneously sounded like a whisper and scream. 

“ _Find - find me_.” 

“Find you?” Sirius said, squinting at it. The light had started to change shape - it almost looked human for a second but then it shifted and became something else, like it was struggling to keep its form. 

“ _The in-between places_ ,” it said. Sirius glanced over at Remus, who was frowning. 

“I don’t get it - the in-between places?” 

“ _Find me_ ,” it said again, urgently now. It looked human again, but there was something wrong with the proportions, and Sirius couldn’t quite work out what it was. Remus took a step forward. 

“When did you die?” he asked gently. “How long have you been here?” There was a pause, like it was thinking. 

“ _Not so long_ ,” said the voice - it sounded sad, and clearer than it had before. “ _It was only Halloween_.” 

“Which Halloween?” Sirius asked insistently. “It’s - it’s Halloween today. It’s the 31st of October, 1976. Did you die today?” 

“ _I suppose I did,_ ” said the voice, sounding confused now. _“I suppose I must have died today_.” 

“I hope you don’t mind my asking, but - what killed you?” Remus asked. He was still speaking so kindly, as if he were trying to comfort it. 

“ _Find me_ ,” it said again, but the light was growing fainter now, shapeless and disordered. 

“Don’t - shit, don’t go now,” Sirius said, trying to follow it as it started to move away through the trees. “Christ, why didn’t we ask that first - _what killed you_?” 

It was too late. The light glowed faintly, and then was gone. Sirius turned around and looked at the others, who were all staring at him. James was the first to speak.

“ _Please_ tell me you spiked that firewhiskey, Padfoot. Please tell me we don’t have to solve a murder _and_ try to pass Defence Against the Dark Arts this year.”


	5. The Proper Authorities

James had never been able to handle his whiskey. He tried to be helpful, tried to pose theories about what constituted _in-between places_ as they walked back up to the castle, but he kept trailing off halfway through and looking as if he might be sick. When they got back to the dormitory he put his head down on the bed for a ‘little rest’ and didn’t pick it up again. Peter was always out like a light as soon as his head hit the pillow and tonight was no different, despite the fact that a literal actual ghost had just tasked them with finding its body. Or at least, that’s what Remus thought it had been asking them. The whole thing was rather confusing.

What was also confusing was the fact that he really, truly wanted to stay mad at Sirius - wanted to stay cold and distant and refuse to relent until he received an actual apology - but found himself needing to talk about it all so desperately with somebody conscious that he couldn’t keep his mouth shut. 

“It can’t be a student,” he said quietly. He was sitting on the end of his bed, while Sirius lay sprawled on his own. “Or a teacher. Somehow I think there’d have been a bit of a fuss if someone at Hogwarts had died or gone missing today.”

“We go missing all the time,” Sirius pointed out, producing the firewhiskey from somewhere and taking a drink. Remus didn’t understand how he could _still_ be drinking. “Much to our advantage, nobody seems to give a shit.” 

“Shouldn’t we tell somebody, though? What if a student went missing today and nobody’s worked it out yet?” 

“I don’t mean to be the proverbial fly in your ointment, but it’s not like we can avert disaster or save the day - they’re already dead.” 

“That’s not really the point, is it. And what if Prongs was right, what if they _were_ murdered? What if there’s a murderer walking around the castle?” 

“I’ll bump them off for you, Moony, don’t worry,” Sirius said. “I’ve got very sharp teeth and frankly _massive_ biceps.” Remus got the impression that he wasn’t taking this particularly seriously. 

“Sirius,” he said insistently. Sirius sat up with a sigh, dangling the bottle of firewhiskey in his long fingers. 

“You said it yourself, there are ghosts everywhere. That ghost might have - I don’t know, wandered in from Hogsmeade or been blown in on a stiff breeze. It might have mixed up the dates - it definitely didn’t seem 100% on the particulars. Also very weird that it didn’t look like anything specific.” 

“It spoke English, though. What if it’s a muggle ghost?” 

“There _are_ no muggle ghosts,” Sirius scoffed. “It’s not possible.” 

“You know, I’m always baffled by the fact that people are so quick to describe things as impossible when we go to a magic school in a magic castle in the middle of magical god-knows-where-”  
  
“Scotland, Remus. We’re in Scotland.” 

“You know what I mean! Who’s to decide what’s possible?”  
  
“Christ, you’re feisty tonight. Is it the whiskey? Have some more,” Sirius offered him the dregs of the bottle he was holding and Remus waved it away, feeling his stomach squeeze unpleasantly at the thought. “Anyway, there are _rules_. You know that. Magic can’t just be anything. Magic is … something.” 

“Quick, write that down and have them add it as a postscript to _A History of Magic_.” 

“Don’t be a berk. I take it back. I don’t like you feisty. It upsets my delicate constitution.” 

Remus was about to say that no part of Sirius was delicate, but that wasn’t quite true; he did have a sort of graceful air about him. An easiness; an unpracticed charm. Remus thought it was probably why everybody seemed to fancy him all the time. Maybe it was down to coming from money. Or having very old magical blood in his veins. Maybe it was all the inbreeding.

“I just think we should be taking this seriously. I’m going to talk to Dumbledore first thing in the morning.”

“You do that,” Sirius said dismissively, finishing the bottle of whiskey. “But I think we just got swept up in the atmosphere of the thing. Nothing odd about a ghost. Not even a slightly odd ghost.” Remus stared at him, suddenly very annoyed and feeling tired beyond belief. He yanked the curtains of his four-poster into place and flopped down onto the mattress, ignoring a very sarcastic “sweet dreams, then!” from Sirius on the other side. The whiskey and the relief of a night away from his homework had distracted him, but he suddenly remembered very clearly why he had been angry at Sirius in the first place.

*

Remus had only been in Dumbledore’s office once before; on the first week of term the prefects had been gathered to hear him deliver a rambling and almost indecipherable speech about the importance of duty, time-keeping and peanut butter sandwiches, which had left all of them more confused about their new roles than they had been when they’d walked in. He woke up early the day after Halloween, dressed while being serenaded by a cacophony of snores from everybody else, and walked quickly in the direction of the headmaster’s tower. It was only when he got there that he realised he had no idea how to get in; they’d been escorted there before, and without the password the whole thing was impenetrable. 

Undeterred, Remus decided to seek out Professor McGonagall. He had no idea where teachers slept, and preferred to imagine that they appeared out of thin air every morning fully dressed at their desks and then vanished into the ether once dinner was over. He was pleased to discover that Professor McGonagall was doing her part to continue this fantasy - when he knocked uncertainly on her office door, she immediately called for him to come in.

“How can I help you, Mr Lupin?” She asked brusquely, not looking up from a copy of the Daily Prophet that was open in front of her. 

“I wanted to speak to Professor Dumbledore,” Remus said, glancing down at the newspaper. It looked like there had been another muggle attack; he wanted to turn his head to get a better look at the headline, but thought it might be considered a tad impolite. 

“Professor Dumbledore is not here,” she said, looking up at him through her spectacles. “In his absence, can I be of any assistance?” 

“Er - yeah, I think so,” Remus said. She offered him the chair opposite her, and he sat down and quickly tried to think of a way to explain the events of the previous night without revealing that they had broken about six school rules in the first five minutes. It had felt so urgent last night, as if rules were entirely trivial in the face of such important knowledge, but in the cold light of day watching McGonagall stare impatiently at him he wasn’t feeling quite so brave about it all. 

“I was stretching my legs after the feast last night - walking it off a bit before bed, you know, better for the digestion - er - anyway, I saw a weird sort of light out in the grounds. And it spoke to me, the light, and told me that it was a ghost - or, well, it didn’t _tell_ me that it was a ghost, but it seemed like a ghost - and said that it had died on Halloween. Oh, and that we should look for it in the ‘in-between places’. It thought it might have died yesterday, so I thought - if someone had died, then that’s probably … probably something I should tell somebody,” he finished lamely. 

“Stretching your legs after the feast?” McGonagall repeated, her gaze boring a hole through his skull. 

“Um, yes. That’s right,” Remus said, trying not to look guilty. He had an excellent poker face the majority of the time, but something about Professor McGonagall rendered it almost useless. He thought that maybe her pleasant Scottish accent confused him. 

“And where did you see this apparition?” 

“Hard to say,” said Remus for some reason. It was only hard to say in that he thought he might get the bollocking of his life if he said it. “I mean, it was sort of in the direction of the Forbidden Forest.” 

“Let me get this straight,” McGonagall said sternly. “You were taking a stroll after the feast last night, after the feast which finished quite late - late enough, in fact, that students were specifically instructed to go straight to their dormitories - and you fancied taking in the sights of the Forbidden Forest. Some sort of apparition appeared to you, on All Hallow’s Eve, and told you it had died - perhaps that day, perhaps on some other 31st of October throughout history. Does that sound about right?” 

“Yes?” said Remus, feeling very wrong-footed. If she’d just stop _looking_ at him so directly, perhaps his brain would switch back on again. 

“I don’t think I need to remind you, Mr Lupin, that we take the office of prefect very seriously in this school. There were a few members of the faculty who had - _qualms_ about your appointment, almost entirely due to the company you keep rather than your personal character or academic record, both of which I vouched for myself. Do not make me regret that decision.”  
  
Remus suddenly felt as if he’d been called in here for a telling-off rather than come here of his own volition, and couldn’t wait to leave. “I won’t, Professor, I - you’ll look into the thing with the ghost?”

“I shall put it on my to-do list,” McGonagall said, looking back down at the newspaper. “You may flee now, Mr Lupin.”  
  
Remus did a strange flustered half-bow, and fled. 

*

“What did our old pal Dumbledore say?” Sirius asked at lunch. Remus was surprised he remembered any part of their conversation last night - and that he felt well enough to devour a veritable mountain of roast chicken. Peter was picking at his food miserably, and James had taken one look at it all and put his head down on the table with a satisfying _thunk_. None of them had made it to the morning’s lessons; Remus had felt implicated by their conspicuous absence, even though he was the one slogging through Charms with a pounding headache. 

“He’s not here,” Remus said curtly. “I spoke to McGonagall.”  
  
“And?” 

“She’s looking into it.” 

“Well, there you are then,” Sirius said, reaching for yet more chicken. “All’s well that ends well.”  
  
“Not for the person who died,” Peter said seriously. A brief silence descended after this, and Remus tentatively ate a mouthful of peas. They didn’t taste like much - he had never been particularly fond of vegetables, and assumed it was a delightful side-effect of his condition - but they didn’t induce an urgent need to vomit, either.

“I still want to know what they meant by ‘in-between places’. Aren’t you the least bit curious?” He said, aiming this question at James, rather than Sirius. James didn’t appear to hear him. “Prongs?” 

“I couldn’t possibly say,” James said, his voice muffled by the table. “Ask me again when the room stops spinning. Maybe in a month or so.” 

Sirius laughed. “ _Jamesy_ baby, we’ve got to do something about this - can’t have you falling asleep and vomiting all over girls this year every time we have a party. Girls don’t like it. It’s not on.” 

“Girls don’t like anything,” James said, sounding pained.

“Girls like lots of things,” Peter said helpfully. “It’s just that Lily Evans doesn’t particularly seem to like _you_.” 

James made a strangled sort of noise and put his arms over his head. 

“All good things I hope, Pettigrew?” said a startlingly familiar female voice; Remus looked over his shoulder to see Lily herself standing there, holding an armful of books.

“What?” Peter said, going very pale. 

“I heard you say my name. You weren’t being quiet.” James risked lifting his head from the table, and then sat bolt upright. His hair was sticking up all over the place, and he had a smudge of gravy on his glasses. 

“I was just saying,” Peter said, visibly floundering, “I was just saying that-”

“You’d be a good person to ask,” said Remus quickly. “About something that happened last night.”

“Do tell,” Lily said, not sounding as if she believed him. Remus told her. He left out the part about the whiskey, and the muggle board games, but about halfway through she sat down next to him at the table and actually seemed to be listening. Remus liked Lily, even if he was a little bit afraid of her. He didn’t flatter himself that she liked him, too, but she certainly seemed to find him more tolerable than the rest of them. 

“Hmm,” she said when he’d finished. “In-between places. Hard to tell if they meant sort of - metaphorical in-between places, or something more literal.”  
  
“Yes,” said Remus, “Exactly. I mean, I’d assume that death itself - and being a ghost, lingering on, unfinished business and all that - that’s a sort of in-between in itself, isn’t it?” 

“So maybe it was just confused. It certainly _sounds_ as if it was confused.” 

“It was, but - I don’t know, I can’t get it out of my head. It sounded so urgent, like it really needed something from us. It needed us to find it. If it is physical, I wonder if it’s referring to somewhere here, in the castle?” 

“Plenty of in-between places to choose from. Corridors, tunnels, hidden rooms - the pipes - actually, Mary was saying she thought she found a secret passageway the other day. Can’t get more in-between than a passageway.” 

Remus cleared his throat at this and tried to look as if he’d never been in a secret passageway in his life, let alone every month for the past six years. 

“She found a secret passage?” Sirius said sharply. “Where?” 

“Perhaps if you were a little less of a prat, I might tell you,” Lily replied coolly. She looked back at Remus and saw the question in his eyes, too. “Fine. Third floor corridor, opposite Defence Against the Dark Arts.” Remus stifled a sigh of relief. Of course she didn’t mean _his_ passageway - the only person who’d discovered it in all the time they’d been there was Snape, and that was only because Sirius had given him a few helpful nods in the right direction - but he felt he needed to hear her say it. 

“I wonder if there’s a map of the school,” Remus said thoughtfully. “I always wanted one in first year, but I was too afraid to ask. There might be one in the library.” 

“Tell you what,” Lily said, getting to her feet. “Meet me there after the last bell and I’ll have a look with you. I was going anyway. I’ve got so much Arithmancy I feel sick just looking at it.” 

“Okay,” said Remus, avoiding eye contact with James. “I’ll see you later.”  
  
“See you later,” she repeated, not bothering to say goodbye to the rest of them. There was a moment of quiet; Remus wasn’t looking at any of them, but he could see Sirius grinning like an idiot out of the corner of his eye. 

“Well,” James said, furious. “You may as well have just ripped your robes off and shagged her on the table. Right between the peas and the parsnips.” 


	6. Lily in the Library

James had dampened his hair, combed it, painstakingly arranged it and then dunked his head in the sink to start the process all over again three times by five o’ clock. Sirius had noticed that his eyes were getting more manic and blinky every time he returned from the bathroom; it was quite fascinating to watch.

“You know,” Sirius said, “While I admire your commitment to the cause, I’m not sure this actually counts as a date.” 

“Do you not think I should go, then?” James said worriedly, catching Sirius’s eye in the mirror. He had gone a very funny colour.

“Oh, no, I _definitely_ think you should go.”

“I don’t think Remus wants you to go,” Peter weighed in. He was sitting on James’s bed watching the hair-combing ritual with rapt fascination. 

“I don’t think that’s what he meant,” Sirius said mildly. “He’s a mysterious man, our Moony. Hidden depths. Who knows what he really wants, in his heart.” 

“Well he did actually say ‘James, do not under any circumstances come to the library’”. 

“Peter, I hope you don’t take this the wrong way, but _shut up_ ,” Sirius said. “Ignore him, Prongs. How often do you get a chance like this? Exact coordinates! An excuse to talk! Think of what you’ll tell your grandchildren!”

“I reckon I’ll say ‘I fancied a beautiful red-headed woman once, when I was a lad - it’s a shame you’ll never meet her because she punched me in the face, took out a restraining order against me and I had to settle for your grandmother instead’.” 

“You paint a grim picture of your future. I, on the other hand, am an eternal optimist. Go forth and woo her. Give her a dose of the old Potter charm. Show her that weird scar on your bum that looks like a pumpkin pasty.”  
  
“I showed you that scar in confidence,” James said, combing his hair again. 

“Ooh, I could really eat a pumpkin pasty right about now,” Peter said wistfully. 

“Jesus, Wormtail. _Context_ ,” Sirius said, grimacing. “I think three of us will crowd them, anyway, so stay here and keep your strength up. There’s loads of chocolate under Remus’s bed, I saw him trying to hide it from me yesterday.” 

Peter got to his feet immediately and rummaged under Remus’s bed, then settled down happily on his own with a stack of chocolate bars. 

“Come _on_ , James,” Sirius said, getting up, too restless to watch any more Amateur Hairdressing for the Unhinged. He ruffled James’s hair, receiving a swift but half-hearted punch on the chin in return. “Save that energy for Evans. It’s _go_ time.”

It took them a little while to locate Remus and Lily in the library; they had picked a very cosy corner, and were hunched over a stack of books together deep in conversation. James stiffened at the sight. 

“Calm down. He told you he didn’t fancy her. He said his interest was _purely academic_.” 

“That corner doesn’t look very academic,” James said, bristling.

“It’s a library. Every corner looks academic. Get your head on straight, you’re embarrassing yourself.” 

Remus and Lily were too busy talking in hushed voices to notice when they approached. 

“Fancy seeing you here!” Sirius said loudly, and Remus almost jumped out of his skin. Sirius clapped him on the shoulder and grinned. 

“Oh _God_ ,” Lily said with feeling, turning to see James smiling at her in a rather frightening manner.

“We’ve come to help,” he said. “Just tell me what to do. I’m at your disposal.” 

“Leave,” Lily said immediately. 

“Oh, come now,” Sirius said, pulling up a chair a little too loudly. It couldn’t be helped. “That isn’t in the spirit of learning. Let us help. We’re very good at carrying things. We can be your book monkeys.” 

“I told you not to come,” Remus said through gritted teeth. All the progress they’d made the night before seemed to have evaporated; Sirius was detecting a particularly cold front aimed in his direction, and it made him feel punchy.

“You say a lot of things, Moony. We can’t be expected to hear all of them.”

“Anything you want,” James was saying to Lily. “Really. I just want to be useful.” 

“Have you been hit very hard on the head?” Lily said scathingly. James’s hand immediately went to his scalp.

“No. Why? Is it my hair?” 

“Give me strength,” Remus said, putting a hand to his forehead as if it pained him. 

“Your hair is outstanding, Prongs,” Sirius said supportively. “Here, Evans, let me have a look at that.” He reached out to take the large, heavy book she had been reading; she tightened her grip on it, so Sirius gave it a friendly yank. He quickly realised that he’d miscalculated the required force, and fell quite spectacularly off the back of his chair. 

“Everything’s under control,” he said from the floor, holding the book up as proof. 

“ _Mr Black_.” Sirius sat up very abruptly and saw the extremely elderly librarian, Madam Dubois, staring at him in abject horror. “ _What_ are you doing with that book?” 

“Um. Airing it out?” Sirius said hopefully.

“ _Get out of my library,”_ she hissed, snatching it from him and holding it to her chest protectively as if it were a newborn baby. 

“Right you are,” Sirius said, getting to his feet and grabbing James by the arm. 

“I think I’d better stay,” James said, still looking at Lily.

“ _Now_ ,” said Madam Dubois. “You too, Potter.” 

“That wasn’t good, was it,” James muttered as they made a swift exit.

“I can’t lie to you, Prongs,” Sirius said gravely. “So I won’t say anything at all.” 

*

In the end, they had found a map sewn into a first edition of _Hogwarts: A History_. It had taken quite a while for them to convince Madam Dubois that they needed to check it out, but both Remus and Lily had built up quite a good rapport with the librarian over the years, and eventually she relinquished it with parting promises of a fate worse than death if it came to any harm. 

When they got back to the common room, they opened it up again at a desk by the window. It was difficult to read; there were seven floors of rooms and hallways stacked so illogically they looked like they’d been thrown together at random; hundreds of staircases; at least twenty towers of varying sizes and heights. The grounds were there too, but the groundskeeper’s hut wasn’t marked, and nor was the Owlery. The map predated them both. 

“Here,” Lily said, carefully unfolding a section and pointing. “Mary’s convinced there’s a passageway behind this statue. She said her great-grandmother used to meet people in it for a snog. And there - that trap-door doesn’t go anywhere. There’s so much useful information that isn’t _on_ here.” 

Remus tried not to redden at this wanton mention of snogging; if James were here, his head would have exploded. “This is a trick door,” he said quickly, showing her. “I got lost on my way to Divination in third year and every time I walked through it I ended up back where I started. I kept going round and round for ages before I realised.” 

“We need to be able to mark everything on here,” Lily said, flipping over the map to study the other side. “It’d be a hell of a job to copy it out and write it all down, though, even with magic.” 

“James would help, if you asked him,” Remus said. “He might fail all his NEWTs in the process, but we’d have a bloody good map by Christmas.” 

“I think I can actually smell his desperation,” Lily said, wrinkling her nose. “He’s not even bad-looking, it’s just his personality that’s the problem.” 

Remus logged this sentence in his brain to report back to James when he was less annoyed with him. ‘Not even bad-looking’ would make his entire year. 

“I’ll make a start copying it out, anyway,” he said. What had started as curiosity about their ghostly visitation was turning into something much more familiar; his love of a proper _research_ project. This one had tangible goals, and fieldwork, and the potential for genuine historical significance. His palms were a bit sweaty just thinking about it. 

“Great. Let me know when you get to the fun bits,” Lily said, before sighing and looking at her watch. “I’ve got to go. Arithmancy calls. Have a good one, Lupin.” 

“Bye, Evans.”

When Remus entered the dormitory, James and Sirius were sitting in the middle of the room with their trunks open and most of the contents strewn across the floor. Peter was gone; Remus assumed he was at dinner. There were two half-eaten plates of sausages and mash balanced precariously on the heater, most likely the results of one of Sirius’s frequent kitchen raids. 

“Are you going somewhere?” he asked.

“This isn’t packing,” Sirius said. “Look at it. It’s the exact opposite of packing.” He pulled out a packet of something, opened it to survey its contents, then showed James who nodded appreciatively. 

“How was Evans?” James asked, not very casually. 

“I’m not your spy,” Remus said, putting _Hogwarts: A History_ carefully onto the shelf by his bed and then hanging up his bag. 

“You _are_ his spy,” Sirius said indignantly. “Whatever happened to loyalty? To comradery?” 

“Yeah,” said James. “And also, not being a dickhead?” 

“That’s a bit rich coming from the King of the Dickheads and his pet dog,” Remus snapped irritably. “I _told_ you two not to come. We almost got thrown out of the library too.” 

“Oi,” James said, looking genuinely hurt. “Don’t misdirect all that pent-up anger at me. I’m not the one you’re annoyed with.” They had managed to go for so long without anybody directly addressing the fact that Remus was angry at Sirius that he had thought that maybe the others hadn’t noticed; clearly, he was wrong. 

“Don’t worry, Prongs. _King_ of the Dickheads is actually quite good. At least you’re titled. Could have just been Joe Dickhead, local peasant. Here - I _knew_ I had some left.” Sirius had extracted something else from his piles of belongings. Remus thought it looked suspiciously like a box of dungbombs. It all clicked into place; they were deep in the planning stages of a prank. Over many years of pranks he had played the roles of lookout man, scout, logistics assistant and even accountant, but warning bells were ringing in his head as James cracked open the box to check on the cargo inside; McGonagall had already warned him not to do anything stupid, and there was no way that this could be anything other than very, very stupid.

“Whatever this is, I want no part in it,” Remus warned as he pulled his pyjamas out of his drawer. “I mean it this time.” 

“He doesn’t mean it,” Sirius said to James. 

“For fuck’s sake, Sirius,” Remus said, walking out to the bathroom to change and get ready for bed. It was far too early, but he was exhausted. He brushed his teeth a little too vigorously, spitting blood into the chipped sink. When he got back, they were both haphazardly throwing things back into their trunks; he got into bed and closed his eyes, listening to the sporadic thudding of miscellaneous objects on wood.

“We’ll brief you tomorrow,” James said. 

“I don’t want to be briefed,” Remus replied, without opening his eyes.

“Yes you do, Moony. You do, because poor James is in the constant throes of heartbreak and needs a distraction, and we’re your bosom friends, and it’s for my birthday on Wednesday. We’ll brief you tomorrow.” 

Remus sighed. He had somehow entirely forgotten about Sirius’s birthday.


	7. Seventeen

When Sirius woke up on the third of November, James’s face was approximately half an inch away from his. He didn’t jump, or startle; James had woken him up like this every year on his birthday since he’d turned thirteen.

“Don’t do it,” Sirius said warningly. “I’m so much older than you now, Potter. You’re like a puny little baby trying to fight a hippogriff.” 

“Your breath smells like stale Twiglets,” James said, before launching himself at him. A brief tussle ensued, in which James managed to get Sirius in a headlock before releasing him with a howl of indignation because Sirius had bitten down hard on the inside of his elbow. They both fell off the bed, Sirius half-tangled in his sheets; James rallied and managed to kick him quite hard in the ribs, but seconds later was holding his hands up in surrender. 

“It’s not fair,” he said, scrabbling around for his glasses, which had fallen off at some point during the fight. “I can’t be Prongs in here, I’ll tear holes in everything.” 

Padfoot shook himself free of the sheets and then rolled onto his back, wriggling happily on the scarlet rug.

“Disgusting, you’ll get dog smell on it,” James said, nudging him with his foot. Peter was watching now, giggling delightedly.

“Why do you have to do this every year?” Remus said from his bed, sounding exasperated. 

“You have to give birthday beats,” James said seriously. “ _Especially_ when someone’s turning seventeen. I should have punched him seventeen times!”  
  
Padfoot growled. Remus got up and peered down at him, looking all soft and rumpled and annoyed. 

“I think he wants you to rub his belly,” James said, grinning.

“Urgh,” Remus said eloquently, going red. “No thanks.” 

“It’s like torture,” Sirius said, suddenly human again but still lying stretched out on the rug shirtless and beaming, “Listening to you all be so criminally boring and not being able to say anything back.” 

“Happy birthday, Sirius!” Peter said chirpily, throwing a badly-wrapped present at him. Sirius reached up and caught it, and then gave it a little shake. It rattled around anonymously.

“You know that I’m of age now,” he said, sitting up and starting to unwrap it. “An adult. A man. I hope this is a very serious present, Wormtail, to reflect my new position in life and my-”  
  
“It’s stink pellets,” Peter said quickly.

“So it is! Thanks, Peter. You’re a good egg.” Sirius threw the box to James. “Add it to the stash.” 

“I shall,” James said with great reverence, crossing to Remus’s chest of drawers.

“James,” Remus said incredulously, “Can you get your hands out of my underwear drawer?” 

“Ooh, it’s a panty raid!” said Peter.

“Moony is _very_ private about his panties,” Sirius said, watching Remus blush furiously. “We had to keep all the different elements separate, you understand, in case they reacted with each other and blew up the dormitory.” 

“So you put stink pellets in with my - my stuff?” Remus said. 

“It’s my _birthday_ ,” Sirius said emphatically. 

“Wormtail, let’s go get the - let’s go,” James said, and he and Peter practically skipped from the room, still in their pyjamas. Remus cast around as if looking for something to do, and settled on picking up the ancient copy of _Hogwarts: A History_ again from next to his bed. Sirius had noticed him carrying it about the day before, copying something out from it onto blank parchment every time he had a free minute. 

“Did you find a map?” He asked, going over and trying to take the book from him. Remus refused to relinquish it.

“Don’t,” he said peevishly. “It’s really old, Sirius, and Dubois told me not to damage it.” 

Sirius felt a flash of something very childish and small. He wanted Remus to put the stupid book down and join in the festivities. He wanted him to cast whatever he was stewing over aside and actually act like today was special. He had no idea how to articulate any of this, so he did what he always did when words failed him; he gave Remus a shove. 

“For fuck’s sake, Sirius, what was that for?”

“You haven’t even said happy birthday,” Sirius said, glaring at him. Remus cleared his throat; there was suddenly a very tense atmosphere, like they might actually start throwing punches at each other if it went on for much longer. 

“Happy birthday,” Remus said finally. He put the book down, picked up his uniform from where it had been neatly folded at the end of his bed, and left to get changed without another word. Sirius didn’t know why he felt so deflated. 

“Tada!” James shouted, appearing in the doorway; with a flourish of his arms he revealed Peter, who was grinning and holding a hideous birthday cake in the shape of an enormous, shaggy black dog. 

*

Sirius loved his birthday. He loved his birthday so much that not even a grumpy Remus or double Defence Against the Dark Arts could ruin it. Everybody who saw him at breakfast had clapped him on the shoulder or shouted out well-wishes from down the table; Kingsley Shacklebolt from the year above had given him a galleon, and Marlene McKinnon, captain of the Gryffindor quidditch team, had ruffled his hair affectionately as she walked past. Sirius thought there must be something about being a dog half the time that made people want to pet you; not that he minded. Marlene McKinnon was toned and blonde with a particularly wicked smile, and could pet him any time she fancied. 

He was walking to Care of Magical Creatures that afternoon with James when the one thing that could put a dent in his mood appeared around the corner; Regulus, deep in conversation with Nyle Mulciber and Rodolphus Lestrange. He had the same long, black hair and high cheekbones as Sirius, but there was something about sleeping in the dungeons that seemed to give people a particularly pale, bloodless look about them; standing next to his fellow dark-haired Slytherins, he could have been their brother instead of his. 

“Think birthday thoughts,” James said nervously, glancing between them. “We _can’t_ get detention, it’ll ruin everything.” Lestrange nudged Regulus, who looked up and saw them standing there. 

“Eyes down, blood traitor,” Mulciber spat in their direction. Sirius wanted to make a joke of it, wanted to scoff the ridiculous _performance_ of it all, but he couldn’t. Not with Regulus standing there, smirking. His hands curled unconsciously into fists. 

“It’s very normal when you say things like that, Mulciber,” James said brightly, pulling on Sirius’s sleeve to get him to move. “Paints a picture of a rich, inner life with no cause for alarm.” 

“Funny little bastard, aren’t you Potter?” Lestrange said, narrowing his eyes. Sirius _wanted_ them to start a fight; he wanted to hit them over and over again until they were reduced to a bloody pulp. He could already feel the satisfying _thwack_ of his knuckles connecting with Regulus’s smug face. 

“You must come to my stand-up, Lestrange, when you’re not busy setting fire to babies or whatever it is you do with your spare time,” James said, tugging on Sirius’s arm more insistently. Sirius gave in and started to walk; they had to pass the Slytherins to get out of the castle, and his entire body was tensed for contact. Mulciber made a move towards him, but Lestrange put out a hand to stop him. 

“Don’t lower yourself to touching a scabby little runt like that,” he said, and Regulus laughed. 

“He’s a stain on our blood legacy, your brother,” Mulciber said, still looking as if he were aching for a fight. 

“He’s not my brother,” Regulus said without a hint of feeling, watching Sirius pass with cold, emotionless eyes. 

*

“It’s all in the timings,” Sirius said as they stood behind a statue in the entrance hall. He was full of so much nervous energy that he kept running his hands through his hair and drumming his fingers on James’s arm. “Keep to the _timings_ and we’ll be alright.” They had all synced their watches, despite Remus’s protestations that they kept time magically and would have already been in sync. It always made their pranks feel more official, somehow; almost military. 

“Are you sure you’re up to it?” James asked Peter, who was looking a bit green about the gills. “You _can’t_ be Wormtail, Peter. Someone in the A team has to stay human.” 

“Er,” said Peter, looking as if he were already seconds from transforming to get away from the whole thing. 

“Swap with Remus,” James said suddenly. “Remus, you’re being promoted.”  
  
“I don’t want to be promoted,” Remus said, but one look at Sirius - whose eyes were, admittedly, a little manic - and he reluctantly swapped places, turning out his pockets and handing the contents to Peter.

“Welcome to the A team,” Sirius said. “Guts and glory. Risk and reward.” 

“Detention and expulsion,” Remus supplied. Sirius rolled his eyes. 

“I won’t stand for any of that,” he warned, and Remus opened his mouth but thought better of responding. Sirius drew himself up to his full height. “I won’t waste time with grand proclamations and speeches; you’re all good men. You know what you have to do. Be swift, be loyal, be true - and above all, don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.” 

James laughed and started to speak, but Sirius cut him off. “Sorry, Prongs - no time. I make it six o’ clock in three, two, one … scatter!” Peter transformed and James picked him up and put him in his breast pocket in one fluid motion; he pulled the cloak over both of them and vanished. Sirius grabbed Remus by the arm and they walked as quickly as they could without running to the south staircase, taking the steps two at a time. 

“You don’t have to manhandle me,” Remus said, knocking Sirius’s arm away. 

“You’re a flight risk,” Sirius replied, but he didn’t try to grab him again. They walked casually along the corridor - or, Sirius did, as it wasn’t in Remus’s nature to look casual - and then Sirius opened a door seemingly at random and pulled his friend inside.

They were in a large store cupboard full of crockery; Remus nearly knocked a precarious pile of plates over the moment they stepped inside, and Sirius had to steady them with both hands. 

“Aren’t you meant to have super-reflexes?” he complained. 

“Not when I’m human,” Remus said, not looking at him. He was still being such a wet blanket; it was very much _not_ in the birthday spirit. Sirius decided that enough was enough.

“Can you just tell me why you’re being so shirty with me and we can punch each other in the face like adults and go back to being friends?” 

“I’m not being shirty-”  
  
“ _Remus_. You are. Is this still about the full moon? It’s been _literally_ months. I said I was sorry.”  
  
“No you didn’t,” Remus said quietly. 

“Oh,” said Sirius, his bluster stalling. “Oh. Well. I’m sorry. But if you just-” 

“I thought you were dead,” Remus said suddenly. He looked really quite angry. “I thought I’d _killed_ you. I don’t always remember everything, but I get - I get flashes of things. Usually completely by accident. But if I really focus on something, sometimes I can - I remember seeing you in the Shack, and I remember thinking _this is important_ , and I must have clung to that thought all night because it was still there when I came round, and you weren’t, but your blood was all over the floor and I thought - there was _so much blood_ , Sirius.” 

“I’m a bleeder,” said Sirius, shrugging. 

“Don’t,” Remus said furiously. “Don’t just turn this into a joke. You have no idea-”  
  
“Okay,” Sirius said, putting a hand on his shoulder. To his surprise, Remus didn’t shrug it off. “ _Okay_. I’m sorry. I really am sorry, Remus. I’m a prick. I should have listened to you. I won’t do it again. I’m an idiot, but I’ll try not to be an idiot about this.” 

“Okay. Just - you have to be _careful_. And you’re the least careful person I know,” said Remus seriously, before trying to turn it into a joke. “Besides, I wouldn’t just get expelled; all hell would break loose if I snuffed out a member of the noble house of Black.” 

Sirius’s expression twisted against his will. “I wouldn’t worry. I won’t be part of the noble house of Black for much longer.”

“What?” Remus looked at him, astonished. “Have they kicked you out?” 

“Well, not yet, but all signs point to yes. I stayed with Prongs for the last few weeks of the holidays. They revoked my access to the family vault, so the Potters had to get all my school supplies. Terrible bunch of do-gooders, couldn’t stop them, they just kept buying me books and robes and chocolate while I begged them to stop being so embarrassing. And they - well, anyway. This is boring.” 

“It’s not boring,” Remus said, looking at him with something worryingly like pity in his eyes. He was right; it _wasn’t_ boring, it was something worse, but Sirius didn’t want to think about that right now. He glanced down at his watch.

“Oh shit, we almost missed it - it’s time,” he said, and without further ceremony he transformed. Remus looked down at him doubtfully.

“Is it really worth getting caught like this? Everyone knowing you’re unregistered? Expulsion, and - and probably a trial?”  
  
Padfoot just grinned wolfishly up at him, and nodded towards the door. 

Team A were running distraction and interference; Remus tickled the pear on the large painting in the center of the hallway and then opened the door to the kitchens when it appeared, stepping back to allow Padfoot to pass him. 

“Don’t go too mad,” Remus muttered, but Padfoot was already lost to him. He was in his element. It was time for a little _chaos_. 

*

When the first screams started, they just seemed to spur him on. Remus stood in the hallway listening as the house-elves began to panic, imagining Sirius as a dark shadowy blur as he tore around them. The hysteria inside reached fever-pitch in no time. He felt very bad for them; poor house-elves, just trying to do their jobs, collateral damage tonight in Sirius’s reign of terror. There was an extremely loud crash, as if a large metal tureen had fallen to the ground - this seemed to be the last straw, as a number of house-elves ran past Remus and towards the stairs, all magic forgotten in their alarm. He gave it another few seconds, glanced at his watch and then stepped inside.

“No need to panic,” he shouted, trying to inject some authority into his voice. “It’s my cat, it got loose, just - step outside for a moment while I get him under control.” 

“That’s no cat,” said a shrill, frightened voice; but it was working. The house-elves were running for the door or shrinking back against the walls; a few of them disapparated with loud _pops_. Out of the corner of his eye, Remus saw something invisible bump against the table that was already laden with enormous pots and covered platters, ready for the evening’s feast. 

Padfoot was somehow dripping with soup. They acted out a ridiculous sort of pantomime; Remus stumbling after him, Padfoot almost allowing himself to be collared and then slipping away at the last minute; eventually Remus glanced at his watch and saw that it was time to give the signal.

" _Bad_ cat,” he said sternly; Padfoot gave one last half-hearted snap of his jaws and then ran for the door. “I’m so sorry,” he said earnestly to the remaining house-elves as he jogged after him. “I really am, I’ll make it up to you somehow. He’s a _very_ bad cat.” 

They ran all the way to the end of the corridor and turned the corner; Padfoot glanced around to make sure he wasn’t being watched and then transformed. He was breathing very heavily, and looked extremely pleased with himself.

“ _How_ did you get so covered in soup? You can’t go upstairs looking like this,” Remus reached out and tried to wipe some of it from Sirius’s forehead. 

“No time,” Sirius panted. “Moony - wand. Magic!” 

“Oh, right,” Remus said, taking out his wand. “ _Scourgify!”_ Sirius was instantly sparkling clean; probably cleaner than he had been at the beginning of the night. 

“Let’s go,” he said, and they jogged back up the stairs towards the great hall. Peter was waiting for them by the door. “All sorted?” 

“I think so,” Peter said nervously. 

“Let’s find out,” Sirius said, and they went inside. All was normal so far; the hall was busy, full of students chatting and milling about before taking their seats for dinner. A few fellow Gryffindors waved at them to come over, but they didn’t sit down. 

“Wait for it,” Sirius said under his breath. Remus checked his watch; it was 6.29pm. As the second hand ticked over into 6.30, he squinted at the far end of the Slytherin table and saw the faintest blue light spark into life in mid-air. An audible ripple of happiness travelled through the hall as the food for the feast appeared suddenly on the house tables, magically transported from the kitchens below, and everybody took their seats to start eating.

Eager hands reached out to open the pots and uncover the platters; the blue flame hovered for a moment and then became a tiny projectile, sailing through the air and landing neatly in a large bowl just as a Slytherin first-year pulled it towards him. 

_Boom_. The first dungbomb exploded, coating everybody in a three-foot radius with foul-smelling sludge. The second, third, fourth, and then tens and tens more - too many to count - went off in rapid succession; a beautiful chain reaction travelling down the Slytherin table, belching foul-smelling smoke into the air as the Slytherins screamed and tried to run for cover. The stink-pellets pinged out of the pots like tiny bullets, exploding in the air above them. Next to him, Remus noticed that Sirius’s hands were raised in pure, feverish glee, conducting the whole thing like it was his personal orchestra. James appeared by his side, breathless and grinning, tucking the cloak away under his robes. The last dung bomb went off, the smoke cleared - and then every member of Gryffindor house burst into wild applause, cheering and shouting and laughing as the Slytherins gazed around at each other in horror, wiping their faces and swearing loudly. The smell was unbelievable. 

Sirius stepped forward to take his seat, and the others followed. All eyes at the Gryffindor table turned to them. As the teachers converged on the Slytherins to try to restore order, people kept coming over to pat Sirius on the back and express their admiration. Kingsley Shacklebolt shook his hand wordlessly; Remus could have sworn he saw tears of joy in his eyes. Even Lily Evans gave him a begrudging nod of admiration. When they got back up to the common room that evening - the teachers had promised interrogations and swift retribution, but hadn’t yet traced the source of the chaos - Sirius was heralded like a king, lifted up onto shoulders to chants of his name. He was smiling so much that his face looked in danger of splitting open completely. 

Remus watched, laughing despite himself; he accepted bottles of butterbeer from James and shots from Sirius, who at one point made Remus kneel down in front of him so that he could pour firewhiskey directly from the bottle into his mouth; he joined in with a rowdy chorus of the school song, and let Sirius put his arm around him when they all sang happy birthday. He didn’t even complain when Sirius stuck his whole face in the cake in lieu of blowing out the candles and splattered them all with black icing. After all; you only turned seventeen once. 

A little after midnight, Remus came back from the bathroom and looked around for his friends; as he stumbled across the rug, the crowd parted enough for him to see that Sirius was sitting in the squashy armchair closest to the fireplace. Marlene McKinnon was sitting in his lap. They were kissing _very_ enthusiastically. 

Remus stopped dead, watched them for a moment, and then turned back to the staircase and went quietly in search of his bed.


	8. Unforgivable

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Your comments and kudos keep me going in these trying times. Yum yum. Delicious comments. I'm not feeling very well today so I hope this chapter makes ... some semblance of sense. STAY WELL, FRIENDS.

Sirius ended up with more detention that Remus had ever imagined possible. They had all been called into Slughorn’s office - apparently it had been decided that this was his remit as head of Slytherin house, rather than McGonagall’s, and for that Remus was eternally grateful - and had stood lined up in front of his desk awaiting their fate. 

“You, Mr Lupin, have been identified as being in the kitchens just before the incident took place,” Slughorn said seriously. “A _prefect_. Never in all my years - well. Apparently you had misplaced your cat. Do you have a cat, Mr Lupin?” 

“It was me,” Sirius said immediately. “It was me, and my cat - well, it wasn’t _my_ cat, I was looking after it for a friend. A _girl_ sort of friend, if you must know, Professor.”  
  
“I don’t believe I asked, Mr Black,” Slughorn said reprovingly. “Be that as it may, I’m under no illusions that you managed to do this on your own-”

“I helped,” said James. “It was me. My idea.”  
  
“No it bloody wasn’t,” Sirius said, looking genuinely put out, seeming to forget their audience.

“Professor Slughorn,” Remus started, going red, “I’m sorry, but I did-” 

“Didn’t know anything about it,” Sirius cut in quickly. “Like you said, he’s a prefect - I keep him out of this sort of thing. It’s for his own good. He’s a terrible liar. _Loves_ rules. A slave to authority, really.” 

Remus narrowed his eyes at Sirius. “Really, I think I should say-”  
  
“It was all me, Professor,” Sirius said, getting into his stride now, “And I must say, I don’t regret a single second of it. I’d do it again in a heartbeat; I have learned nothing. No remorse. You should have me locked up, really, for the good of the populace.” Peter, as always, stayed silent. 

It looked like Sirius was going to be in detention until the end of the year. He had been quite cheery about it, exiting with a salute to Slughorn and a satisfied sigh once they had reached the safety of the corridor.

“That was all a bit dramatic, wasn’t it. Bit like that muggle film with that guy, thingy Douglas. ‘I’m Spartacus!’ - ‘No, I’m Spartacus!’”

“Really,” Remus said begrudgingly, “You should have let me speak.” 

“You are such a martyr, Moony. A fool, but a very loyal fool. I won’t forget it.” 

“It’s just _so much_ detention.” 

“I know,” Sirius said, grinning. “I think it’s a record. Imagine that! A _record_.” 

*

On the afternoon of the next full moon, Remus walked into the dormitory to find James standing over Sirius holding an enormous needle. Peter was watching with a look of horror and fascination. Sirius’s face was screwed up, one eye shut, braced for impact.

“ _Stop_ ,” Remus said quickly, putting down _Hogwarts: A History._ “Stop for two seconds. James, give me the needle.”  
  
“No,” said James, squinting down at Sirius. “I just got the angle right-” 

Remus crossed the room and snatched it from him. “Okay,” he said, taking a step back. “Explain.” 

“Prongs is piercing my ear,” Sirius said brightly. 

“Why?” Remus asked slowly. 

“I’m an enemy of the state now, Moony. A renegade. May as well look the part. Prepare myself for the life of a hardened criminal. And also - we found a cool earring on the floor.”

“It’s detention, not Azkaban. No new holes required,” Remus said, trying to be reasonable. “You’d do bloody terrible in prison, anyway.” 

“No I wouldn’t. I’d be really popular. I’d start a gang,” Sirius said airily. “Give him back the needle, Moony. I got all worked up for it and if he doesn’t stab me I’ll have all this adrenaline with nowhere to go.”  
  
“I’ll hit you if you like,” Peter offered magnanimously. “Ooh, Padfoot - you should get a _tattoo_.”  
  
“ _Yes_ ,” Sirius breathed excitedly, at the exact same time as Remus said “ _No_ ,” very firmly. 

“You know what, I think - I think maybe we should get somebody who knows what they’re doing,” James said thoughtfully. This was always the way with him - he’d have picked up that needle the second Sirius suggested it, but given a bit of time to think he usually came to the right conclusion. “A _girl_. A girl would know what to do.” 

“Fine, fine - let’s see if Marlene will stab me,” Sirius said, getting up and running a hand through his hair.

Remus had been pointedly ignoring the strange twisting feeling he experienced somewhere in the region of his chest every time he saw Sirius with Marlene. Sirius claimed it was nothing serious - he kept saying “I’m a free agent,” in this horribly smug voice over and over again, which made Remus want to deck him - but he had seen them flirting in the common room, seen Sirius’s hand on her waist as they climbed out of the portrait hole on their way to some mysterious secondary location. He was intentionally refusing to think about it, and all the whys and wherefores of how it made him feel. Instead, he’d been working on the map; he’d finished copying it all out in a ridiculously short amount of time, and was now starting to add the detail, carting it with him to classes and secretly adding notes like _corridor to nowhere_ and _this_ _door handle bites_ after intelligence-gathering detours. There was something very neat and satisfying about making a map; knowing that everything would fit together in the end and make sense, even in a place like Hogwarts. This thing with Sirius - the annoyance he felt even now as they exited the dormitory and went in search of Marlene - made no sense to him at all. 

They couldn’t find Marlene, but they did find Lily, who smiled at Remus when they approached and ignored the others. James was doing that manic grinning thing again, and Remus resisted the urge to shake him. 

“Need to ask you a favour, Evans,” Sirius said importantly. Lily ignored him, still looking at Remus.

“It’s a good one,” he reassured her. “He’s giving you permission to cause him great pain.”  
  
“Say no more,” Lily said, putting down her book. “I’m in.” 

A small crowd gathered to watch as she instructed him to lie with his head back on the armchair she had just vacated, his face turned towards the fire. Someone was sent to fetch an apple, and Sirius held it to the other side of his ear, looking a little pale and very ridiculous. Remus stood by his head, already grimacing in anticipation. 

“Don’t scream,” Lily warned; she was holding the needle over the flames and watching as it turned white-hot, making sure it was sterile. She had already done the same to the earring. “And don’t cry. Do you need someone to hold your hand?”

“No,” Sirius said stubbornly, but a second later Remus felt sweaty fingers close around his wrist. He quickly looked up to see if anybody had noticed, but they were all watching Lily, who was holding up the needle with expert precision. 

“Okay,” she said, face screwed up in concentration. “Three, two …” she drove the needle home before she got to ‘one’, and Sirius let out a stream of quite impressive swearing but didn’t flinch. His grip on Remus’s arm tightened; it was actually starting to hurt, but Remus didn’t dare move. She pulled the needle out, wiped away a drop of blood and then pushed the earring in, fastening it with a flourish. “There you go. All done.” 

“You enjoyed that far too much,” Sirius said weakly, suddenly releasing Remus and sitting up. 

“Please,” she said serenely, “Come back to Lily’s house of piercings any time. I mean it. _Any_ time.” 

“You know,” James said, watching her walk away as the crowd dispersed, “Maybe _I_ should get something pierced-”  
  
“ _No_ ,” said Remus and Sirius in unison. 

“Not worth it mate,” Sirius said, patting his shoulder consolingly. “Don’t worry; we’ll figure out a way to get her to touch you without a weapon in her hand eventually.” 

*

Later, as they all sat lounging in various corners of the common room doing homework and waiting for the moon to rise, Sirius appeared suddenly next to Remus, who tried not to jump out of his skin and almost managed it. He nudged one of Remus’s knees with his leg, and Remus closed his book and obligingly moved over on the window seat so that Sirius could join him.

“How’s the ear?” 

“Fucking horrible. I swear she really wiggled it about to make it hurt more. She’s a total sadist, I can see why James likes her.” Sirius fingered his very red earlobe and winced.

“Don’t touch it,” Remus said automatically. “It’ll start bleeding again.”  
  
“Who knew there was so much blood in me,” Sirius remarked, and then there was silence for a moment; Remus assumed they were both thinking vividly of Sirius’s shoulder almost torn from its socket, blood soaking everything as they shouted at each other by the Whomping Willow.

“Speaking of,” Sirius said, as if Remus had voiced this aloud, “I was thinking about what you said the other day about - you know, about how you could hold onto a thought when you’re - well, when you’re Moony. That you knew I was there, and you could remember that.” 

“Yes?” Remus said, shifting uncomfortably. He looked around, hoping somebody would be near enough that he could nix this conversation, but nobody came to his aid. 

“I think we’re going about this whole thing the wrong way,” Sirius said, with the air of somebody who’d made a great discovery. “Think about it - you’ve always expended all this energy _denying_ the wolf. Fighting it. I honestly think that’s where half your trouble comes from. What if you stop all that and just - go with it?”  
  
“Just go with it,” Remus repeated incredulously. It was all right for Sirius; he stayed almost completely himself when he was Padfoot. He didn’t know how terrifying it was to feel yourself slipping away completely, to lose control of rational thought, to wake up with no idea what you'd done and the floor covered in blood - he shook his head slightly to dismiss this thought. 

“Well, I think you should try it. I think it might change a lot of things, you know. I reckon Moony and Padfoot might - get on,” Sirius said excitedly. 

“No,” Remus said quickly. “You’re not to come anywhere near me, Sirius.” 

“Dogs like other dogs, Moony. And wolves are just big, bitey dogs. We could form a proper pack. Live large. Chase Prongs around the forest until he falls over.” 

“No,” Remus said again. He couldn’t pretend it didn’t appeal to him - the idea that he might spend the night with some company, wake up with his friends by his side, knowing exactly what he’d done and who he’d been while he was transformed - but it was far too dangerous. Sirius, of all people, should know that. 

“Well,” Sirius said, a little deflated. “Just think about it. Promise you will, Remus.” 

“I’ll think about it,” Remus said, already knowing that his answer wouldn’t change. Sirius nudged Remus’s leg with his again, and he felt their bodies connect from shoulder to ankle - the whole thing felt oddly intimate even though they were both wearing trousers. _Obviously_ , Remus thought. And then; _fucking hell, stop thinking about Sirius and trousers._

He was trying desperately to think of something else to say when the portrait swung open and Marlene McKinnon walked in. She jerked her head in Sirius’s direction, beckoning him over, and he slid off the windowsill happily and went to meet her. She said something, and he laughed and replied with one eyebrow raised - she shoved him in response, and he playfully bit her on the shoulder. Remus looked resolutely down at the closed book in his hands as if it were the most interesting thing in the entire world. 

*

Remus woke up an hour before dawn exhausted and shaking, but pleased to discover that the worst of his injuries from the night’s antics was a large splinter in his finger, which he promptly pulled out with his teeth before he was human enough to think too hard about it. He always felt sick and out-of-sorts after full moons, and often spent the next day in the hospital wing letting Madam Pomfrey bring him bar after bar of chocolate. There was no sign that any of his friends had been there - no fur on the floor or blood in his fingernails, no memories of trying to rip anybody’s throat out - so he got to his feet and staggered along the tunnel feeling nothing more than bone-tired and a little nauseous. 

Padfoot met him halfway down, snuffling at him, checking him all over for injuries. 

“I’m fine,” Remus said, shoving him away. “Just my finger.” He showed the small wound to Padfoot, who studied it for a second and then licked it enthusiastically. 

“ _Urgh_. That’s so unhygienic,” he said, taking a step back as Sirius transformed. 

“So are all the best things in life,” he said, grinning and wiping his mouth. Remus knew he was just doing it to see the disgusted look on his face. “Come on. We didn’t go to bed, we just ran around like idiots all night, I’m knackered.” 

“Only _like_ idiots,” Remus said, but he was too tired to spar; his foot caught on a tree root near the mouth of the tunnel and Sirius had to put an arm out to steady him. 

“Pot, kettle,” Sirius said, removing his hand.

“What?” 

“Idiots. Pot’s an idiot. Kettle’s - also an idiot.”  
  
“You’re not making any sense,” Remus said with great effort as they staggered out of the Whomping Willow and made their way over to James and Peter, who were sitting nearby, also looking shattered.

“No,” said Sirius mildly, yawning. “Don’t suppose I am.” 

They all ducked under the invisibility cloak for the journey back up to Gryffindor tower, but just before they reached the door, James held out a hand to stop them. He was looking back over their shoulders - Remus followed his gaze, and his eyes narrowed as he saw four figures sneaking up the front lawn, clearly trying not to be seen.

“What are they doing out of bed?” Sirius whispered.

“They could ask us the same question,” Remus pointed out.

“Yes but we’re _allowed_ , we have good _reason,_ we - hold the fucking phone. That’s my cousin.” Sure enough, as they got closer Remus could see that Bellatrix Black was leading the group, flanked by Mulciber, Avery and-

“ _Snape_ ,” James hissed. “Little rat.”  
  
“Oi,” said Peter reprovingly.

“Sorry Wormtail,” James said. “I just meant - well, they’re clearly up to no good, aren’t they?” 

“We should follow them,” said Sirius, suddenly sounding very alert. 

“We should go to bed,” Remus said pleadingly, but he knew it was a lost cause; James was already nodding in agreement. 

They waited until the group of Slytherins had reached the doorway and then followed them inside, trying not to walk or breathe too loudly. Mulciber was muttering something, sounding irritated, and suddenly Bellatrix stopped dead and pointed her wand at him - he backed away, his hands in the air.

“No need to get hysterical,” Mulciber said quickly, and Bellatrix narrowed her eyes at him. She looked genuinely terrifying. 

“Some of us are taking this seriously,” she hissed at him. “We had a job to do, and we failed. Since you find it all so tiresome, _you_ can be the one to explain that to him.” 

Mulciber looked nervous now, an expression Remus had never seen on his face. “Come, now, Bella - nobody’s to blame here, nobody’s-”  
  
“Shh,” Bellatrix said, suddenly glancing around at exactly where Remus was standing. He held his breath. “Not here,” she said impatiently, turning on her heel and marching away in the direction of the Slytherin dungeons. Without discussion, Remus and the others followed. They were painfully slow going down the stairs, the Slytherins moving out of earshot as they hurried ahead. Remus willed his exhausted body to cooperate, but it wasn’t up to the task; he knew he’d made a mistake judging the distance as soon as his foot hit the bottom step. He stumbled a little and tripped on the hem of the Invisibility Cloak, pulling it off all of them as he fell sideways. 

Bellatrix and the others had turned the corner and couldn’t see them, but they certainly heard the sound of a candelabra clanging against the wall before Remus could put a hand out to stop it; James just had time to tuck the cloak out of sight before they all appeared, looking varying shades of furious and terrified. When she saw who it was, Bellatrix squared her shoulders; Snape flinched as if he’d been hit, which Remus thought was probably quite prescient. 

“Well, well, well,” Sirius said cockily, as if they hadn’t been the ones caught eavesdropping. “If it isn’t the Hitler youth.” 

“Fuck off, Black,” said Carth Avery; he was very tall and still next to Mulciber’s short, unhinged bulk. 

“Just wanted a quick word with my cousin, actually,” Sirius said, crossing his arms. “How are you, Bella? Still keeping _excellent_ company, I see.”  
  
“This is none of your concern,” said Snape, looking from Bellatrix to Sirius. “Come _on_ . This isn’t the time. Let’s go.”  
  
“Actually,” said Sirius, “I’m quite interested in what you’re all doing sneaking around the castle at night. Knitting circle? Truth or dare?” 

“World’s most depressing orgy?” added James, and Sirius snorted. 

Bellatrix laughed too. It was a chilling sound; Remus felt goosebumps erupt on his arms and tried not to look as uneasy as he felt. “Oh, you’ll know soon enough,” she said, a glint in her eye. “Don't you worry about _that_.” 

“Besides,” said Snape quickly from beside her, “I wouldn’t be asking too many questions if I were you, or we might be tempted to return the favour - what are _you_ doing scampering around at this hour?”  
  
“Yeah,” said Mulciber with feeling. 

James’s eyes were narrowed, and he was rolling up his sleeves. Remus knew that look. It wasn’t a good one. “Careful, Severus,” James said dangerously. “You know how good you are at getting yourself into _sticky situations_. I’d hate for you to get hurt.”  
  
“ _Ha_ ,” Snape spat. “I’m not frightened of a bunch of pathetic blood traitors and their mangy little pet cur-” 

“ _Stupefy!”_ James hissed - Snape, twitchy as ever, just managed to duck the spell and instead of retaliating started making a hasty retreat down the corridor. Remus suspected that James had only done it to get him to stop talking. 

“Come _on_ ,” Snape called to the others, but Mulciber and Avery’s wands were raised, and Bellatrix looked thrilled that the whole thing had devolved into violence. 

“James,” Remus said insistently; they were all already on the thinnest of ice, and an inter-house brawl on school grounds was hardly going to help matters. There was a moment of extreme tension, and then James lowered his wand, taking a step back. “Let’s go,” Remus said, relieved. 

It happened so suddenly that he barely had time to turn around; one moment they were backing away, Peter leading them as they made to leg it back up the steps, and then Bellatrix’s voice rang out; clear, and cruel, and laced with malice. 

“ _Crucio_!” 

Beside him, Sirius collapsed backwards onto the stairs, his face a mask of agony; Remus dropped to his knees immediately, forgetting he had a wand, forgetting about magic entirely as Sirius shook violently and made a horrible, guttural sound of pain through gritted teeth; from somewhere above him, he saw flashes of light as James and Peter cast defensive spells in Bellatrix’s direction. Sirius was rigid, writhing, his eyes rolling back into his head as if he were having a fit - and then suddenly all of the tension vanished from his body, his head falling back into Remus’s lap. 

He could hear Bellatrix laughing, Snape saying something angrily, footsteps echoing down the corridor as they made for the dungeons. He didn’t care about any of it; his hand was in Sirius’s hair, cradling his head, utter panic still coursing through his veins. He felt James sit down beside him, then looked up at Peter, who had gone white. 

“We should get help,” he said, not attempting to disguise the shake in his voice. “We should-” he was interrupted by Sirius, who groaned and opened his eyes. With great effort, he heaved himself up onto his forearms and squinted at Remus.

“Well, fuck that,” he said weakly. And then; “Does anybody fancy a drink?” 

  
  



	9. Attack at Hogsmeade

Remus kept bringing him cups of tea. He’d hand one over and then stand there hovering, all jittery and twitchy, clearly exhausted but too wired to sit down; then he’d disappear off again, and always come back with another bloody cup. Sirius wished he’d just sit down, but didn’t have the energy to say so at the minute. 

He had tried to walk off Bellatrix’s attack - even tried to laugh off the fact that she’d finally gone completely round the bend and actually used an unforgivable curse on him - but halfway back to Gryffindor tower he was embarrassed to find that his legs weren’t working anymore, and the others had needed to half-carry, half-drag him back to the portrait hole. 

Now he was lying on his bed, trying to stop his legs from shaking, attempting to lift mugs of tea and squares of chocolate to his lips without dropping them all over himself. Peter looked anxious, but Peter always looked anxious; James was angry, trying to make jokes but clearly boiling with it just under the surface; Remus was the worst, because he looked sad and scared and all of the vulnerable things Sirius wasn’t allowing himself to be right now. _Damn it, Remus._

“I am literally holding a full cup of tea,” he said finally - in a voice he hoped sounded less pathetic to the others than it did to him - when Remus appeared with yet another fresh one. “Are you trying to drown me? Are you the new regional salesman for PG Tips?” 

“It’s good for shock,” Remus said, looking down at the tea in his hand with a frown as if it had appeared there without his say-so. “I put four sugars in.” 

“I can tell,” Sirius said, wincing as he took a sip. Remus looked crestfallen. “No, no, it’s good, Moony. Keeping my strength up. My veins run brown with tea now.” 

“I can’t believe she did that,” Peter said in a quiet little voice. “I can’t believe she _actually_ did that.” 

“So you’ve said,” Sirius raised an eyebrow at him, still trying to make this funny, despite the fact that it horribly, painfully wasn’t. 

“I’m going to kill her,” said James savagely. “Or - well, at the very least I’m going to McGonagall to get her expelled.” 

“No,” Sirius said quickly. “Can’t. If she’s out then you know Snape will retaliate and shoot his mouth off about Remus, and then he’s out too.”

“I don’t care,” Remus said, his hands clenched tightly around the superfluous tea.

“Shut up, Moony,” Sirius said dismissively. He risked sitting up, and managed to stay that way. His whole body felt wretched, like every ounce of strength had been sapped from it, leaving just a papery-thin shell; he wondered if this was how Remus felt every full moon. “Sit down and drink that tea; _you’re_ the one who should probably be in the hospital wing.” 

Remus looked for a moment as if he might protest, but then sat down and took a sip, wincing when the sugar hit his tongue. 

“I’m going to kill her,” James said again. 

“I want to know what they were up to,” Sirius said, abruptly changing the subject. “She said they had a job, and they’d failed someone - must be a hell of a boss to get Bella all jumpy like that. Never been much for taking orders. She usually just tells you to fuck off or turns your pillow into loads of knives if you ask her to do something for you.” 

“Voldemort,” Peter said instantly. “I bet they were meant to be doing something for Lord Voldemort.”  
  
“Don’t call him that,” Sirius snapped.

“Why not? That’s what everybody else is calling him,” Peter said, looking wronged. 

“What the fuck is he Lord of? He’s just some bloke with a complex who’s given himself a title, and everybody’s going along with it. His name’s Riddle. If we all start calling him _Lord Voldemort_ people will forget he’s only a person. Bloody hell. _Lord_. Like he’s wizarding nobility. I dub thee King Fuckhead.” There was silence after this, and Sirius realised he’d sort of been shouting. “Sorry, Peter. Not your fault. Hey, guess what - being tortured puts you in a foul mood! Who’d have guessed.” 

Remus winced when he said the word ‘tortured’, and he wished he could unsay it; it hung in the room between them all like a spectre. 

“I think we should keep a close eye on them,” James said, getting up. “A _very_ close eye.”

“Surely they’re not actually - they’re still at _school_ , I doubt Vold- I mean, I doubt _Riddle_ is asking students to do him favours,” Peter said, as if trying to convince himself. 

“Don’t know,” said James. “We’re in uncharted territory, mate. Padfoot’s cousin just committed an imprisonable offence.” He looked down at his watch and then back up at the rest of them. “Sorry, I know it’s - I just can’t _think_ when I’m this hungry. Does anybody else want breakfast?”

They all did. James held out an arm for Sirius and pulled him up out of bed, and then they all changed quickly - Remus ducking into the bathroom for privacy, as he always did - and stumbled downstairs to the Great Hall. They made for a miserable bunch, Sirius thought, looking around at their untidy hair and hunched shoulders and the dark circles under everybody’s eyes. It was Sunday, so breakfast wasn’t as busy as usual, but there was a small crowd gathered around one end of the Gryffindor table - as Sirius looked around, he saw similar gatherings all over the hall. There was a strange atmosphere, too; tense and foreboding.

“What is it?” James asked when they reached the Gryffindors. Lily Evans had the _Daily Prophet_ spread out in front of her, others leaning across the table and over her shoulder to read. 

“Attack in Hogsmeade,” she said, for once talking directly to him. “Two people died.” 

“ _What_?” They joined the crowd around her, and Sirius quickly scanned the story. A seemingly random attack, two purebloods and a dog killed - not Riddle and his followers’ usual victims - and it had split open part of the street, causing a pipe to burst. Sirius shuddered involuntarily at the thought of all that power in the wrong hands. 

“Why would they kill purebloods?” James said incredulously. 

“Why would they kill a _dog_?” Sirius added. “And in Hogsmeade? Right under Dumbledore’s nose?” 

“No idea,” said Lily. “It was an elderly couple out for a walk. Only one eyewitness, and he was walking back drunk from the Hog’s Head - he said it was Riddle himself, with some of his followers.”  
  
“Oh, come off it,” said Sirius. “Why would he waltz into Hogsmeade and start killing random people?” 

“Maybe to send a message?” James said, looking worriedly over at Sirius. 

“Or to draw Dumbledore out,” Remus said thoughtfully.

Marlene McKinnon strode down the hall towards them with an owl looking flustered on her shoulder; she gave Sirius a quick nod of acknowledgement before putting a letter down on the table. 

“Mum’s just sent this,” she said. “One of her friends from school lives in the flat above Dervish and Banges. She knows Richie Nolan, the witness from the _Prophet_ ; says he might have been drunk, but he knows what he saw. It was Voldemort - and he was with Lucius Malfoy and Fenrir Greyback.” 

“ _Fuck_ ,” said Sirius. “It’s real then. He was here.”

“I don’t feel safe knowing he was just down the road,” said a second-year boy in a quavering voice; James reached out and gave him a reassuring pat on the shoulder. 

“You’re alright here, mate,” he said. “Hogwarts is protected by a million enchantments, and teachers, and Dumbledore himself - I bet even the squid in the lake would put a massive helmet on and go to war before letting Voldemort anywhere near Hogwarts.” 

“You mean Riddle,” Sirius corrected; James looked at him with a very tired expression on his face, as if Sirius were missing the point. 

“Dumbledore will probably call an assembly,” said Lily, folding up the newspaper and pushing it away. “Explain what happened, new security measures - that sort of thing.” 

“Has anybody actually _seen_ Dumbledore this week?” Sirius asked, and there was a general shaking of heads. His position at the teacher’s table had been conspicuously empty at mealtimes for days on end over the past few months, but this was the longest time Sirius could ever remember him not seeming to be at school at all. “Come to think of it, you couldn’t find him when you went to talk to him a while back, could you Remus - wait, where’s Remus?” 

Sirius had assumed that Remus was still standing at his shoulder; he wasn’t. He glanced over at Peter, who just shrugged. He looked around the Great Hall, puzzled, and then all of a sudden it clicked. _Shit_. Without stopping to explain, he turned and practically ran the length of the table. The entrance hall was empty when he reached it, but it was a glorious day outside, sun streaming in through the vaulted windows; it was far too cold to venture outside without winter robes, but he pushed the door open just in case and sure enough, a tiny brown-haired figure was marching around the lake in the distance, shoulders hunched. He’d recognise that terrible posture anywhere. 

To catch up to him, Sirius had to run. He _hated_ running. It was a sweaty, uncomfortable sort of affair at the best of times, but he was still exhausted from a night without sleep and his run-in with Bellatrix; he kept having to stop, bend over double and try not to be sick, then rally and jog again for a few more seconds before he needed another break. By the time he reached Remus, who hadn’t seen him approaching, he had a searing stitch in his side and was horribly out of breath. He wished - as he always did when forced to exercise - that he could have done it as Padfoot. That bloody dog made everything look easy. 

“ _Moony,_ ” he panted, and Remus finally turned around. “Fucking hell. I thought you’d hear me coming. I think I’ve burst a lung.” 

Remus tried to smile at him, but it didn’t come out right; it was a horrible, sad sort of grimace instead. 

“ _Remus_ ,” Sirius said hopelessly, slinging an arm around his friend’s shoulders before he could protest. “I’m so sorry. I’m so fucking sorry. I should have realised right away. We were all caught up in the Riddle part of it, I didn’t even hear him when he said it was Greyback-”

“It’s okay,” Remus said, but he sounded devastatingly small and frightened, and Sirius knew it wasn’t okay at all. He pulled Remus into a fierce hug, not caring that they didn’t really do this, that they weren’t naturally physical with each other like he always was with James. He’d been careless with his hands lately, especially since he’d started up with Marlene and become so used to frequent, casual contact. He expected Remus to push him away but he didn’t, so he gave him a proper, bone-crunching squeeze, and didn’t let go until Remus tapped gently at his chest in protest. 

“Sorry,” Sirius said as he took a step back, suddenly feeling awkward about the whole thing. “Bad with words. It was either that or a good shoving.”  
  
“You’re not bad with words,” Remus said, almost absent-mindedly; he was gazing off into the distance as if having a mildly interesting thought, but Sirius could see that his hands were shaking uncontrollably. “Silly to be scared of him, really. I don’t remember any of the actual - being _bitten_ part. I remember pain, and being afraid, but I don’t even remember what he looked like.”  
  
“Ugly fucker, probably,” Sirius said angrily before he could stop himself. “Sorry.” 

“I just remember - I remember my parents’ faces when they were fighting him off, and how upset they were afterwards. Dad just crying and crying. I feel like they never looked at me the same way again after that. Not that they don’t love me, or that they don’t try,” he said quickly. “But it’s like they can’t look at me without seeing failure. Their failure, not mine, but that doesn’t really help when you’re … anyway.” He straightened up and seemed to focus on Sirius properly for the first time. “You look awful.” 

“Thanks. So do you,” Sirius said, reaching out to ruffle Remus’s already dishevelled hair. “Are you going to be okay, Moony? Really?” 

“Yeah. Yeah, I am,” Remus said resolutely. “It just threw me a bit, hearing his name - knowing he’d been in Hogsmeade - but I’m alright.” 

“Thank Christ,” Sirius said cheerfully. “I didn’t have anything else in my arsenal after hugging except a good old-fashioned snog.” 

“Yeah,” Remus said, looking uncomfortable. “Well.” 

When they got back to the Great Hall, the crowd at the Gryffindor table had dispersed; Sirius was surprised to see that James was still sitting with Lily, talking earnestly. 

“What the fuck’s this, then?” He muttered to Remus. 

“Try not to be a prick about it,” Remus said, and Sirius rolled his eyes but resisted the urge to make a joke as they went to sit down. 

“I was just telling Lily,” James said quietly, “that we saw the Slytherins sneaking around the grounds last night like the four wankers of the apocalypse.” 

“So you think-” 

“Yeah. I do. They went to meet him. Or they tried, anyway. Aren’t many ways you can get out of Hogwarts grounds, but maybe they found one.”  
  
“Aren’t many?” Lily scoffed. “There aren’t _any_. Dumbledore has made sure of that.” Sirius glanced at Remus. They certainly knew of a few.

“Er. Hello? I can see you two giving each other significant looks. I’m sitting right here,” Lily said, and Sirius tried very hard to keep his expression neutral. 

“I’ve been working on the map,” Remus said, producing it from somewhere in his robes. “I’ve been adding in everything I can think of, everything I find between lessons. _Especially_ anything you might be able to describe as ‘in-between’.”  
  
“Hang on - are you still on about that ghost?” James said, baffled.

“Well, _yes_ , I actually find it deeply confusing that you’re _not_ still thinking about that ghost - but it might be useful to find out where all the tunnels and passageways are. In the castle, and in the grounds. What if the Slytherins are using them? What if they give that information to Vold- ... to Riddle?” 

“We should tell McGonagall what you saw,” Lily said. “This is well above our pay grade.” 

“Can’t,” James said quickly. 

“Why?” Lily said, narrowing her eyes at him.

“Um,” James replied, looking dicey. “Just can’t. Seriously. Please don’t tell her.” 

“Very illuminating,” Lily said, looking intrigued. Sirius sighed. Intrigue wasn’t good; Remus’s continued presence at the school had always relied on discretion, which had admittedly never been their strong point. It couldn’t all fall to pieces now, with just a year and a half to go. 

“I’m going to bed,” Sirius announced. 

“It’s nine o’ clock in the morning,” said Lily, looking thoroughly unimpressed. 

“Yeah. Well. If Riddle’s coming to murder us all in our beds, I’ll get my sleep where I can.” 

*

The teachers did put up extra protections around the castle, although the students weren’t privy to what they were exactly; visits to Hogsmeade were banned for the foreseeable future, a decision that Remus expected people to accept immediately and without question, but of course they didn’t. Apparently to the younger years, sweets and butterbeer seemed well worth the risk of running into the most terrifying wizard of their generation.

Remus wanted to set aside more time to work on the map - Lily came to him a few times with notes scribbled on pieces of parchment, little additions for him that she’d discovered around the castle - but their workload ramped up so much as the holidays approached that he barely had time to do anything else. James and Peter often sat beside him as he worked; Sirius would lounge about in the vicinity or disappear off with Marlene, always managing to scrape his essays together at the last minute, a skill which Remus found illogically infuriating. He would have _killed_ to have a natural aptitude for anything at all; instead, he had to work hard for absolutely every mark and test result, like a total chump. 

They didn’t have time to spy on the Slytherins, either, something which James seemed to find particularly infuriating; all _his_ spare time outside of homework was taken up by Quidditch practice. The first match of the season - Gryffindor vs Slytherin - should have lifted their spirits, but instead they sat huddled in the stands suffering endless icy sleet and hail as they watched Gryffindor lose 60 points to 160. 

“You scored five goals, though!” Remus said afterwards, trying to cheer James up. It didn’t work; James put his rain-soaked head in his hands, moaned loudly and then went for a ridiculously long shower. 

The Christmas holidays were upon them so suddenly that Remus hadn’t considered them at all until the week before term finished. The house-elves had put up an enormous Christmas tree in the common room decorated with miniature golden cherubs, which didn’t really seem to be alive but had been enchanted to fly around the branches and occasionally play very out-of-tune Christmas carols on their miniature trumpets. Sirius soon discovered that the cherubs seemed to like popcorn, and they all spent a very enjoyable hour throwing smaller kernels at them so they could watch them zoom about and try to catch them in their chubby little hands. 

“I might name them,” Sirius said fondly as he tried to feed one of the cherubs by hand; it bit his finger, but he didn’t seem to mind. “They can be my only pals when you’ve all fucked off home for Christmas.”  
  
“You’re staying, then?” Remus asked. He’d been wondering what Sirius planned to do - whether he’d attempt to go home, or maybe stay with James instead. 

“I told you,” James said right on cue, “Come for a Potter Christmas. It’ll be great. Mum will get so stressed about dinner she won’t enjoy a single second of it, Dad will get too drunk and do his obscene Elvis impression while the rest of us slowly die inside. Good, wholesome fun.” 

“They just like me _too much_. You don’t want to be playing second fiddle to me at your own Christmas dinner, Prongs. It’ll traumatise you for life.” 

“Too late,” said James, grimacing. “Dad’s ‘Love Me Tender’ has already done that. Especially when he does that _thing_ with his _hips_.” He shuddered theatrically. 

“You’re alright,” said Sirius, looking for all the world as if the prospect of Christmas alone really didn’t bother him. “I’m going to stay here and catch up on all my horrible essays and have a wank in every bed in the dormitory.”  
  
“ _Sirius!_ ” Peter squeaked, horrified, as the rest of them laughed. 

“Is Marlene staying?” Remus asked, trying to sound casual. 

“No. Back to clan McKinnon for festive dust-ups with her many siblings.” 

“Oh,” said Remus. He tried to leave a very long gap before speaking again, hoping that somebody might fill it, but everybody had lulled into a comfortable silence. “I was actually thinking of staying, too. I want to work on this map.” 

“Moony, you’re very noble, but I’ll be fine. Go home and give all your books a Christmas cuddle.” 

“I don’t care about _you_ , I care about everything else - we’ve barely had time to think about that ghost, or Riddle, or anything at all except Potions and bloody Arithmancy. I want to finish this map. James, will you leave me your cloak?” 

“Only if you solemnly swear you’ll do very naughty things with it,” James said, and Remus shrugged.

“Er - I’ll definitely go into the restricted section in the library?” 

“You pain me, Moony. It’s like a dagger to the heart. At least spill a bit of ink in there. Or find a book with dirty pictures.”  
  
“I don’t think there’s a nudie selection in the school library,” Remus said, going red. 

“There isn’t,” said Sirius. “I’ve checked.” 

“Fine, fine. Take the cloak. Just try to show it a good time, yeah?” 

“I’ll try,” said Remus, intending to do no such thing. The prospect of two weeks alone with Sirius now stretched ahead of him, both terrifying and thrilling in equal measure. _I’m staying to work_ , he told himself firmly. _This is purely academic_. 

“So you’re staying? You’re actually staying?” said Sirius excitedly. 

“I’m staying,” said Remus, feeling the tips of his ears go rather hot. 

“Yes! Moony and Padfoot go large! The Moony and Padfoot Christmas special!” Sirius said, throwing popcorn up in the air like confetti. “Fair warning - I am definitely still going to do the wanking thing. If you see a stocking on the door handle, make like Peter every full moon and run for your fucking life.”


	10. Very Good Hands

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Vanished for a bit. Back now. Please do leave a comment if you enjoyed! Merry Christmas!

“Fucking hell, I can’t see the - wait, stop moving. I think you were closer to the door. I’m trying to find you - my hand is over here. No. Nope. _Christ_ Moony, that wasn’t my hand!”  
  
“Shit. Sorry!” 

“This is no time to get fresh with me. I thought you were holding your wand?”  
  
“Oh - I am. Forgot. _Lumos_.” 

Sirius had been convinced that they’d finally found a secret passage. It had started out so promisingly, with the discovery of a dark and narrow corridor near the kitchens that neither of them could remember seeing before; after half an hour spent walking slowly down it checking every loose brick and floorboard for concealed openings they had finally come to an ancient oak door, which had slammed shut behind them as soon as they’d entered. As Remus’s wand ignited, they saw that the room they had stumbled into was nothing more than a glorified store cupboard, full of stacks of broken cauldrons and crates of dusty potions vials. 

“A storage room, after all that?” Sirius gave one of the cauldrons a kick and narrowly avoided bringing a whole pile of them tumbling down on them. “This is so depressing. Honestly, I’d have preferred it if we’d walked in and seen a banner that said ‘this isn’t a secret passageway, you fucking idiots’.”

“It sort of managed to say that without words,” Remus said, lowering his wand. “You know. ‘Show don’t tell’, and all of that.” 

They walked back up the corridor in a grumpy silence, not bothering to put the invisibility cloak back on, Sirius seething at all that wasted energy and potential. The corridor opened back out into the main hallway, and as they reached the stairs that led up to the entrance hall Sirius sat down gloomily on the bottom step.

“Better add it to the map,” he said. Remus sat down next to him, carefully unfolded the piece of parchment - which was growing larger by the day - and drew the corridor into the outline of the lower ground floor with long, neat strokes of his quill. “Make sure you write ‘shitty little store cupboard’.”

“I’m not writing that,” said Remus, bending over the map protectively. 

“Oh, come on. It’s Christmas!” 

“It’s not Christmas, it’s Christmas Eve,” Remus said stubbornly, but when he moved his hand away Sirius was delighted to see that he’d written ‘store cupboard (shit)’. 

“That’s the spirit, Moony,” Sirius said, clapping him heartily on the back. “What’s next? Have we done this whole floor?”

They had spent every second of the past two days exploring the castle to fill in the gaps in Remus’s map; normally Sirius would have complained, but he was buzzing with a strange, unsettled energy at the moment, so a task that kept them constantly moving was welcome. They had encountered stairs that turned to ice as soon as they were stepped on, a ladder that ended in midair halfway up a tiny tower on the fourth floor, and exactly zero passageways out of the castle. Each time they met a dead end or something surprisingly boring, Sirius got frustrated and sighed and kicked things; Remus, on the other hand, just quietly got out the map and diligently added sketches and labels in his neat little script. Remus, Sirius realised, was doing this for the love of _knowledge_ ; Sirius wouldn’t be satisfied with anything less than an adventure.

“Yes, we’re finished,” Remus said, frowning down at the map.

“Great. Let’s get a drink. Celebrate a job well done,” Sirius said, getting up and stretching. 

“Actually, I want to go to the library,” Remus said, looking up. 

“The eight most thrilling words in the English language,” Sirius deadpanned. “Come _on._ We’ve had map time. Now it’s booze time. Delicious booze! You like Christmas drinking, Moony, remember in third year when you had all that punch and told us to call you the Wolf Man and wouldn’t stop doing sexy growling-”

“No,” Remus said, going pink. 

“Well, I remember it. _Vividly_ ,” said Sirius, grinning at him. Making Remus blush like that truly was one of the greatest joys of his life. 

“I’m going to the library,” Remus repeated, folding up the map and tucking it tenderly away. “I keep thinking about a bit of magic I read about, and I think it might - well, it might be really useful right now. Are you coming?”  
  
“ _Ugh_ , I guess I have to,” Sirius said, reluctantly following as Remus started up the stairs.

“You could go and do something on your own, you know. You don’t have to come with me.” 

“Yes I do, Moony. Yes I absolutely do. If nobody’s around to talk to me I just shrivel up and die.”  
  
“You mean if there’s nobody around to listen to _you_ talk.” 

“Isn’t that what I said?” 

The library was almost completely empty when they reached it; Madam Dubois was still there behind her desk, but she was wearing a festive cardigan and levitating chocolates out of a selection box and into her mouth every few seconds, reading what looked like a rather steamy romance novel. 

“Did you see that bloke on the cover?” Sirius whispered, elbowing Remus. “I’ve never _seen_ so many muscles on one human man. That wasn’t a six-pack, it was like a … how many is a baker’s dozen?”  
  
“Thirteen.”  
  
“He had _way_ more than thirteen. Why don’t I look like that?” Sirius rolled up his sleeve and tried to flex his biceps.

“Nobody looks like that. He was an illustration, not a real person,” Remus said, glancing over at Sirius’s arm and then pointedly looking away again. 

“Show me yours,” Sirius demanded. “Have you got abs? Show me your abs.” Remus fixed him with a weary look. 

“I’m not going to strip for you in the _library_ ,” he said firmly, leading Sirius through the shelves and towards the charms section. 

“Ah,” said Sirius. “But that does imply that you’ll strip for me _somewhere._ ”

Remus was distracted looking for a particular book, and when he found it he took it down and knocked some dust off the cover. 

“What is this? Is it more maps? Remember when we were young and sprightly and we had fun, and did a new prank every week, and now we just do … mapography.” 

“Cartography.”

“God, it just got worse when you said that.” 

“I distinctly remember you and James coming up with the pranks and me doing _all_ the detentions with you regardless of my involvement.”  
  
“Well then, you should have really got stuck in, if you were going to have to do the detention either way. Anyway, I’m doing all the detention from my birthday, aren’t I? All one thousand years of it.” 

“It’s not a map,” Remus said, putting the book down on a desk so they could both sit and look at the contents. “It’s _Quintessence: A Quest_. It was supplementary reading in Charms.” 

“I haven’t read it,” Sirius said, reaching to flick through the pages and then squeaking in protest when Remus slapped his hand away.

“Well _obviously_ you haven’t read it, but _I_ have - it’s about magic as a sort of fifth element, but also about how it interacts with living creatures, how some spells, like protective and disillusionment charms, physically inhabit a space-”

“This is worse than cartography,” Sirius said gloomily, sitting back in his chair. 

“It mentioned a proper tracking charm,” Remus said, and at this Sirius sat up straight again. “A spell that doesn’t need to be cast more than once or refreshed, as long as the space doesn’t change shape. Theoretically you could know where everybody inside a building is, at all times, if you took the charm and bound it to something … well, something like this map.”  
  
“A building as big as Hogwarts?”

“I think so.”

“So we could know where everyone is? All the time?” Sirius said, getting excited now.  
  
“Yes.” 

“And then the Slytherins would be _fucked_.”  
  
“Yes. The Slytherins would indeed be fucked.” 

“I can’t believe they just leave all this shit lying around in books that literally _anybody_ could read,” Sirius said delightedly. “It’s a good thing it’s _us_ doing it; this sort of thing could be very dangerous in the wrong hands. Don’t look at me like that, Moony, we’re not the wrong hands. We’re very good hands.” 

“Can you use your very good hands to get me a copy of _Advanced Charms and Enchantments_ from the top shelf, please?” 

They ended up with a small stack of Charms books, Remus handing half to Sirius and instructing him to look for ‘anything useful’; Sirius lost focus at least a dozen times in the first twenty minutes, itching to go somewhere or say something or to see what would happen if he just stood up and screamed into the silence, but a few warning looks from Remus were enough to get him to stay quietly in his seat, tapping his fingers on the surface of the desk as he skimmed pages. 

“There’s nothing here,” he said, slamming a book shut and then putting his head down on top of it. “Please, Moony, we’ve been here for about six hours. It’s _Christmas.”_

“It’s been forty-five minutes,” Remus said calmly, turning a page. “Check the last one, and then we can go.”  
  
Sirius flipped through the last book, not really taking any of it in, desperate to get out of the silent library; he was just about to pretend to read the last chapter and then announce the whole thing to be a lost cause when something caught his eye. 

“Shit, Moony, I think - I think this is it,” he said, pushing the book towards Remus. “The Homonculous charm. Is that what you were talking about?”

Remus’s eyes lit up, and he leant over the page, reading fast. “I think - oh my _God_ , I think it is. You’ve found it!” 

“I have literally never seen you so happy,” Sirius said in wonderment. “If only I’d known this was all it took. All that time you were pissed off at me this year.” 

“Don’t ruin the moment,” Remus said. “I think - I really think we can _do_ this.” 

“Brilliant,” said Sirius. “Can we get drunk now?” 

“You go, I’m going to - I’m going to stay here and figure this out. I want to try and cast it. Tonight.” 

“Fine,” Sirius said, finally getting up. “I’m going to go and see if Dubois wants to get a drink with me. She’s always struck me as someone who has a wild side. Still waters run deep, Moony.”

Remus ignored him. Sirius sighed. Upstaged by a book, as always. 

*

As soon as he’d left the library, Sirius had realised that he had far too much energy to burn to just go to the dormitory; instead he’d walked out into the grounds, slipped behind a tree and transformed into Padfoot before tearing off through the grass at breakneck speed in search of some rabbits to terrorize. By the time he walked back into the castle, sweaty and out of breath and very pleased with himself, it was dark outside; he put his head around the library door to check for Remus and only saw Dubois, dozing with her book on her chest. 

Remus was sitting by the fire in the common room when he walked in, wand out, muttering something over the map.

“Any luck?” he said, and Remus jumped like he’d been bitten. 

“No,” Remus said, frowning. “I think you have to be in the right state of mind. You have to sort of … relax into it.”  
  
“I can see why that might present a problem, as you’ve never been relaxed for more than two seconds in your entire life.”

“Not true,” Remus said, putting his wand away. “I visited the Old Library at Trinity College in Dublin, once. Wandered it for hours. It was heaven.”  
  
“Books don’t relax you because you start panicking about all the ones you haven’t read,” Sirius said, picking up a handful of sweets from the bowl the house-elves had left for them and throwing himself down on the rug by the fire to relieve them of their shiny wrappers.

“I really should read more,” Remus said, looking genuinely disappointed in himself.

“You really should _drink_ more,” Sirius said, pulling a flask out of his pocket.

“Where did that come from? Do you always have it? Have you literally been carrying that around since breakfast?” 

“A wizard never reveals his secrets,” Sirius said, taking a drink. “But also, yes.” 

They drank for a while by the fire, and then they drank sitting on the floor playing a very nasty game of Gobstones; eventually the game was pushed aside and Remus had become tipsy and careless enough to lie down next to Sirius on the rug, both looking up at the vaulted ceiling as they passed the flask back and forth. 

“Room is spinning,” Remus said, and Sirius considered this for a moment before agreeing; although he could feel the back of his head pressed firmly into the floor, the floor itself seemed to be tilting at a rather alarming angle.

“Problem is with Hogwarts,” Sirius said sleepily, “The room actually _might_ be spinning. Wasn’t one of those staircases you found spinning?” 

“It was more a … a gentle rotation,” Remus said. “I really don’t think it’s the room this time. I think it’s the vodka.” 

“Impossible to say,” said Sirius, tipping the last of it onto his tongue. They lay in companionable silence for a while.“Moony - do I annoy you?”  
  
“What?” Remus said, turning his head and looking over at him. The firelight made his hair look almost red; this close Sirius could see the thin, white scars on his nose and eyebrow, reminders of his transformations when he was more puppy than wolf. 

“I mean, I know I'm generally considered a handful, usually through _no_ fault of my own, but sometimes I really think - I don’t know, you seem to spend a lot more time annoyed with me than with anybody else.” 

“That’s because Peter barely notices what’s happening two feet from his face and James - well, James is like a human bludger most of the time but he does actually know when to stop.” Remus wasn’t looking at him any more - his face was turned towards the ceiling again. 

“ _Moony_.” 

“No, Sirius, you don’t annoy me,” Remus said quietly. “I think we just - our brains are wired very differently. You’re going at a thousand miles an hour all the time, and everybody else is just trying to keep up.” 

“Everybody else is _so slow_ ,” Sirius said sadly, and Remus laughed. They lay in silence again for a minute, and then somewhere deep in the castle, a bell began to chime.

“Midnight,” Remus said, sitting up. “We should go to bed, I’m shattered.”  
  
“Midnight! That means it’s _Christmas_. Merry Christmas, Moony.”  
  
“Merry Christmas,” Remus mumbled back; they staggered up the stairs to the dormitory and took it in turns to half-heartedly brush their teeth, but once Sirius had actually climbed into his bed he found himself reluctant to draw the curtains and settle down.

“Tell me a festive story,” he said into the darkness. He heard Remus sigh. 

“I’m not telling you a fucking story,” he said, sounding muffled, like he was speaking into his pillow. 

“Come on, Remus, I’m too drunk to sleep.” 

“I’m going to come over there and hit you in a minute.” 

“Do it,” Sirius said. “It’s lonely without Prongs over here snoring his arse off.” 

There was another sigh, but then to his surprise, he heard the sound of bedsprings; a few seconds later, he was almost shoved out of bed. 

“Fucking _hell_ ,” Sirius said indignantly, pulling himself back in by the sheets as Remus sat down next to him. It felt significant, this - Remus so close in the dark, and vodka on his breath, and the intimacy of sharing the narrow single bed with him - but Sirius was too tired and too drunk to examine it. All that mattered was that it was rather nice. “Alright. What’s the story, then?”

“Hmm. Don’t really know any. Could do you a poem?” 

“A poem! A festive poem! It’ll be a triumph, Moony.” 

“Alright, calm down,” Remus swung his legs over so he was actually sitting properly in bed next to Sirius, who quietly moved over as much as he could to make room. “Er. Okay. ‘Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house-”

“Through the castle. We’re in a castle.” 

“Don’t interrupt. All through the house, not a creature was stirring, not even a-”  
  
“Wormtail. Sorry, I know, no interrupting.”

“The stockings were hung by the - I feel like a complete dick doing this, by the way. You’re not three years old.”  
  
“I am emotionally,” Sirius said, yawning. “Come on, Remus. It’s nice.” He reached out and found Remus’s arm and patted it encouragingly, not bothering to remove his hand afterwards. Remus sighed, but not like he was annoyed; it was something else. 

Sirius only heard up to the part with the reindeer names - he was _convinced_ Remus was making half of them up, and wanted to say so, but his head was far too heavy - and then he was asleep. 

*

When Remus woke up, he was in entirely the wrong bed, and every inch of Sirius’s unconscious body was pressed against his back; he had one arm flung over Remus’s waist, his hand resting on the top of one of his thighs. It was quite comfortable while he was still too asleep to think about it, so cosy and easy that he didn’t want to move and break the spell, but as he began to wake up properly he encountered a problem. 

He tried thinking about poetry, counting backwards from one hundred - he even thought about McGonagall frowning disappointedly at him from behind her desk in her office - but then Sirius shifted in his sleep, and Remus felt his breath hot and close on the back of his neck, and he leapt out of bed so suddenly that he almost knocked Sirius onto the floor. 

“W - what?” Sirius said sleepily, but Remus ignored him, already rushing to the bathroom to have the longest and most confusing shower of his entire life. 

_It’s normal_ , he kept repeating to himself over and over again as he looked at his guilty reflection in the mirror afterwards. _It’s normal, especially in the morning_ , and that’s why he’d woken up with - and that’s why Sirius had _also_ \- 

There was the sound of a fist colliding with the door. “Christ, Moony, are you filling up the whole room so you can start an aquarium? Let me _in,_ I need a wee.” There was a pause. “Oh. And merry fucking Christmas!” 


	11. Messrs Moony, Padfoot, Moony & Padfoot

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's go time. It's crunch time. It's ... time.

Remus had never been at Hogwarts for Christmas before; he had expected he and Sirius to have very little company, and was surprised when they came down for the feast to see at least a dozen other students already at the table. He recognised Dorcas Meadowes, a seventh-year Hufflepuff, and Hannah O’Sullivan, a Ravenclaw in their year. Professor Dumbledore was sitting at the head of the table wearing what seemed to be a floor-length scarlet velvet smoking jacket, with Professors Slughorn and Grubbly-Plank either side of him. 

“Good afternoon, and a very merry Christmas to you both,” Dumbledore said, and Remus’s mind started racing; there had been so many things he’d wanted to talk to the headmaster about in the past couple of months, but he could hardly launch into them now over Christmas dinner. Still, perhaps afterwards, when the plates had been cleared - he couldn’t pass up this opportunity, not with Dumbledore gone so often of late. Remus turned to give Sirius a significant look, but came face-to-face with a wizarding cracker instead.

“Will you stop _waggling_ that at me,” he muttered crossly, and Sirius laughed. 

“That’s not very festive of you. Look!” He nodded over at Remus’s other side; Hannah O’Sullivan was waving a cracker in his direction too with a very miserable expression on her face. Remus sighed, then took hold of both of them and pulled, as everybody else around the table did the same; the crackers exploded with loud bangs, and as the smoke cleared Remus saw that a tiny silver telescope had fallen into his lap.

Sirius started laughing, and Hannah fixed him with a disapproving look. “What’s so funny about that?” she asked sharply. 

“Oh, nothing,” Sirius said, merrily putting on the Captain’s hat that had fallen out of his cracker. “Remus just _really_ likes the moon.”  
  
Remus sighed and then reluctantly put on his tiara; it would have been far too rude not to. Dumbledore was now happily sporting a fez. “What did you get?” Remus asked Sirius, who had ducked under the table to retrieve the gift that had fallen from his cracker.

“Crystal ball,” Sirius said as he heaved himself back up into his chair, Captain’s hat askew; he rolled it towards Remus, who caught it and peered into it. “Can you see anything?” 

“Yeah,” said Remus. “I look like a fucking pillock in this crown.” 

“It’s a tiara. And that’s not very ladylike language,” Sirius said, taking the crystal ball back. 

“Eat up, everybody,” said Dumbledore, clapping his hands together; the table was suddenly laden with roast chickens and turkeys, bowls of roast potatoes, every vegetable under the sun and jugs of hot, thick gravy - the latter of which Sirius poured so liberally onto his plate that Remus got thoroughly splashed. They got on with the business of eating, but Remus had one eye on Dumbledore the whole time, itching to talk to him; they had just started pudding when Professor McGonagall entered the Great Hall looking harried and rushed over to whisper something urgently in Dumbledore’s ear. 

“Thank you, Minevera,” he said, getting to his feet. “My apologies, but I must take my leave of you all. Please do try the trifle. It’s my favourite.” Remus almost got to his feet as well; he wanted to call after the headmaster, maybe even try to follow him, but Dumbledore was already sweeping from the room with McGonagall, still wearing his fez. 

“Damn it,” Remus said, putting down his fork. “I really wanted to talk to him.” 

“You can talk to me,” Sirius said through a mouthful of Christmas pudding. 

“Not because I’m _lonely_ , you prick, because - I wanted to talk to him about that ghost, and the Slytherins. His brain works differently to everybody else’s, I feel like he might actually understand-” 

“Can’t tell him about the Slytherins,” Sirius said automatically. “Remember? Snape? Snitching to the board of governors? And if our old pal Severus gets you kicked out, won’t be long before I’m in Azkaban.”  
  
“What? Why?” 

“For his murder. Pass me the sticky toffee pudding.” Remus did. 

“I feel like there’s a way to tell him without really _telling_ him,” Remus said. “He wouldn’t let it get back to Snape, I’m sure of it. And where is he _going_ all the time? I mean I’m sure he’s off talking to people about Vold- about Riddle and security and everything, but he’s the headmaster, he’s meant to be _here_.” 

“Could you just chill out and eat something? You’re thinking too much, and you’re trying to trick _me_ into thinking. I will not _think_ on Christmas Day.” 

“Clearly,” Remus said, but he took a helping of pudding while Sirius beamed at him encouragingly. 

The bewitched ceiling had turned a dusky purple by the time the feast was finished; they had been drawn into a few rounds of Exploding Snap with Professor Grubbly-Plank after pudding, and Sirius had managed to singe the tips of all the fingers on his left hand. 

“I wonder if I’ve still got fingerprints,” he said, showing Remus his fingers for the fourth time as they slowly walked down the corridor in the direction of Gryffindor tower. 

“I don’t know what you expect me to do about it,” Remus said, batting his hand away. It was very warm, like some remnants of the explosion were still lingering there. 

“A little sympathy might be nice,” Sirius said. Remus barely heard him; he was thinking about Dumbledore again, imagining exactly how he’d have broached the subject of all the- “Hello. Earth to Moony. You’re stuck in the deep, dark depths of your head again.” 

“I’m just trying-”  
  
“This won’t do, Remus. What can I do to get you to actually, properly relax and enjoy the delights of being in a fucking _castle_ on Christmas day?” 

“Hmm,” said Remus, before turning to Sirius decisively. “Let’s get drunk again.” 

“Oh my god,” Sirius said happily. “That was so beautiful. It gave me _chills_.” 

Sirius seemed to have a never-ending supply of booze hidden under his bed, which was lucky as they had been making a very good go at reaching the bottom of it lately. Tonight he produced two bottles of something called Baileys. Remus had never tried it before, but he decided immediately after his first sip that he _loved_ Baileys. 

“It’s like - it’s like a coffee milkshake,” he said in an awed voice. “But with alcohol.”  
  
“I know,” Sirius said, smiling wickedly at him. “And I knew you’d react like this, so I’ve got two more bottles charmed to the inside of my cupboard.” 

They went downstairs to the common room to drink and Remus looked at the spot on the rug where they had reclined the night before, heads so close they were almost touching; he half-hoped Sirius would stretch himself out there again but instead he leapt into an armchair and Remus took the one next to him. 

“Truth or dare,” Sirius said suddenly.

“Nope,” Remus replied, just as quickly.

“Truth or _dare_.” Sirius repeated.

“There’s only two of us here and you’re just going to make me do awful things - I still haven’t forgotten when you and James last forced me to say ‘dare’, some of the seventh-year girls still won’t look me in the eye-”  
  
“Oh, they’re over that. Marlene did tell me the story recently, but - fondly rather than in a call-the-authorities sort of way.” 

Somehow, in all the magic of Christmas, Remus had forgotten about Marlene. He took a big glug of his drink. 

“Okay. I’ll play. But truth only. No dares.” 

“That’s the wrong half, Remus. That’s the least delightful half.”  
  
“Take it or leave it.”  
  
“Fine,” Sirius said disgustedly, taking a swig and then wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “You go first.” 

“Okay - truth. You and Marlene …” 

“That’s not a question. Is she my girlfriend? Has she flashed me the goods behind the broom shed? Have we been shagging vigorously under James’s cloak?” Remus grimaced at this, and Sirius laughed. “I’m kidding, Prongs would kill me if I got bodily fluids on that thing. Although maybe it’d just imbibe it with my manly strength. Make it stronger and more powerful than ever before. Stop making that _face_. In answer to your - well, it wasn’t really a question, was it? We’re just snogging. A _lot_. She says she’s too focused on Quidditch to get distracted by anything else. I may have put my hand up her skirt just before Christmas break. She may have politely told me to fuck off. Young love, you know.” 

“Right,” said Remus, feeling relief flooding through his body at the same time as a sort of selfish protectiveness; it was the same thing he’d been feeling since Sirius’s birthday, that Sirius really belonged to him, to their little gang, and certainly not to anybody else. 

“My turn. Do you fancy Evans?” Remus almost choked on his Baileys at this.

“Er - no. Not in the slightest. She’s lovely-looking, obviously, and she’s hilarious and clever and absolutely terrifying sometimes, I can see why James - but, no. Not for me.” 

“Interesting,” said Sirius, raising an eyebrow as he drank. 

“Is it?” said Remus, feeling a bit ruffled for some reason. 

“Yes. You’re very interesting, Moony, and you must make your peace with it.”  
  
“I don’t _feel_ interesting,” Remus said before he could stop himself; he looked up at Sirius, trying to laugh and make a joke out of it, but Sirius was frowning at him.

“Don’t say that. You’re endlessly interesting. Yes, you _love_ a school rule, and you get high on the smell of ancient books, but that all just adds to the mystery.” 

“I mean it’s not like I’m - I’m not always running around coming up with mental ideas with you and James, or wanting to do pranks, or-” 

“Yeah, but everybody always _knows_ what Prongs and I are going to do. You can take any given situation and stick us in it and be like - oh, yes, there’s an expensive vase on the table, that’s fucked, and that beautiful girl over there is going to be all James talks about for the next three to four years, but with you - _most_ of the time I know you’ll pick up a book and go and sit in a corner and make those angry little huffy sounds you do when we’re pissing you off, but maybe one time out of ten you’ll do something completely, gloriously unexpected.” 

“I don’t make angry huffy sounds,” Remus said, but he was smiling. 

“Alright, don’t let it go to your head. I just said you were interesting, I didn’t propose marriage. Although you are dressed the part in that very _fetching_ tiara.” Remus had forgotten about the tiara entirely, and thought about taking it off, but he could already imagine Sirius’s expression of deep hurt and disappointment. It wasn’t entirely fair; the Captain’s hat looked _so_ good on him. “Go on, Moony. Truth.” 

“Er - okay. Truth,” Remus said, taking a drink to buy him some time as he thought. “Are you really - are you really not going home again?” 

Sirius tensed at this, but then laughed. “I got a letter this morning. The jolliest of Christmas cards. Do you want to read it?”

“Yeah,” said Remus, and Sirius hopped up out of the chair and went upstairs to the dormitory; he came back down holding a haphazardly-folded piece of parchment with a cracked black wax seal. 

“Have at it. I must warn you, it’s the least festive thing I’ve ever fucking read.” He started drinking again in earnest as Remus unfolded the letter. 

“ _In light of your allegiances_ … _your lack of respect for the traditions and responsibilities of this family_ …” Remus read aloud, getting more incredulous by the second. “ _Your fraternising with elements far beneath you_... fucking hell, this reads like you’re getting sacked.” 

“‘Elements far beneath’ you means muggle-borns and half-bloods,” Sirius said darkly. “It’s like a how-to guide for casual fascists. Oh they _say_ it’s awful, all the killings and what Riddle’s been doing, but you know they’re secretly pleased that people are coming around to their way of thinking without them actually having to get their hands dirty - they can say _they’d_ certainly never go so far as to actually start offing people they don’t like, but it’s all very convenient for them that _somebody’s_ getting rid of the ‘lower elements’.” 

“They didn’t even say merry Christmas,” Remus said, folding the letter back up.

“No they did not, Moony. No they fucking did not. But it’s okay. In answer to your question, I’m not going back. I have a bit of their gold left - and a bit more that they don’t know about - but my uncle Alphard says he’ll help me out if I need it, and the Potters have already said I can stay with them. I wasn’t sure, before, but - anyway. They’ll be thrilled to bits when I say I’m actually doing it, all their Christmases come at once-” 

“Padfoot,” Remus said softly, trying to break through all this bravado, the endless joking around about things that really weren’t funny. 

“Oh god, you never call me that. You’re looking at me like you’re a nurse and you have to tell me I’m dying.” 

“I just think that you’re allowed to be - I don’t know, upset. Disappointed. Angry. Pick one.” 

“Fine. I pick them all. I am all of those things. But it’s not like I didn’t see it coming. I know it’s probably hard to understand, but when you see something like this coming from a fucking mile away and it just creeps closer and closer until it’s actually right there in front of you, you don’t burst into tears or throw things or whatever. Because you always knew it would come to this. It was just a matter of time.” 

“It’s not that hard to understand,” Remus said, handing him the letter. Sirius looked down at it, for a moment looking a lot younger than seventeen; looking like the boy Remus had met in the entrance hall during first year who had smirked and laughed and pretended he wasn’t nervous about the sorting but had been violently picking at his fingernails when he thought nobody was looking. The boy who had looked completely horrified and ashen-faced when he’d been sorted into Gryffindor to loud boos from the Slytherin table, before James had tried to turn his spoon into a snake to make him laugh. 

“Fuck it,” Sirius said, standing up and tossing the letter into the fire. “Fuck them all.” 

“Fuck them all,” Remus repeated, raising his bottle like it was a toast. Sirius was still looking into the fire. For no reason in particular, Remus got up to join him; he looked at Sirus’s face in profile, a little red from the heat and the booze, and wanted so badly to touch it that his fingers twitched treacherously by his side. “You’ve got us, Padfoot. You always will. And you’ve got - you’ve got me.” 

Sirius turned to look at him. He still had that look on his face, that boyish bewilderment, that need for something comforting and familiar to still him. They were standing very close together. Remus met his eye, saw something stubborn and determined in there, mirrored in the set of his jaw, but it was suddenly too much - he couldn’t hold his gaze - he cleared his throat and looked away, and Sirius seemed to snap out of whatever it was he’d been thinking. 

“Are you hungry?” 

“No,” said Remus, going to pick up his Baileys. “We _just_ ate.” 

“I want a mince pie. Can’t believe we didn’t have any at dinner, complete amateurs. Let’s go to the kitchens.” 

“I don’t think they’re going to be very pleased to see me down there.”  
  
“They’re house-elves. They’re _always_ pleased to see people.” 

*

The house-elves seemed to be having a party. It was so unlikely that Remus’s brain tried to rearrange it into something else that made sense, but no; they were drinking butterbeer and dancing and one of them was even playing a pipe.

When they saw Remus and Sirius walking in, they looked panicked and ran back to their stations; Remus winced at it, immediately feeling horribly guilty. 

“Please, please. Carry on,” he said. 

“Yeah,” said Sirius. “I’d rather die than get in the way of a party. Ignore us, we’re here for plunder.” 

One of the house-elves came rushing over and asked what they wanted, and then returned with a huge platter of mince pies, which Remus took with profuse thanks. He turned to leave, but Sirius grabbed him by the sleeve.

“I have never left a party early,” he said sternly. “And look at this one, it’s the best thing I’ve ever seen - they’re doing a sort of _jig_.” 

They were indeed dancing again; apparently butterbeer was quite potent for house-elves, because quite a few of them seemed downright drunk. Sirius sat down on a stool by the door and patted the one next to him; Remus reluctantly sat too and put the platter down on his lap. The house-elves had apparently decided that they were no threat, and now that they had provided sustenance in the form of mince pies they were free to carry on; Remus had never seen house-elves looking like they were actually enjoying themselves unless they were waiting on students, or doing things for other people. It was a disconcerting thought. 

“Pie,” Sirius said, and Remus handed him one. “Thanks,” he said, before reaching over and stuffing it in Remus’s mouth. 

“For fuck’s - fucking hell,” Remus muttered angrily through a mouthful of pastry. 

“Your mouth looked bored,” Sirius said, picking up a pie and shoving it in his own mouth. Remus would have liked to respond, but he was too busy chewing and swallowing. They watched as the house-elves formed a circle and took it in turns to dance around it. “Hey - what’s wrong with that one?” 

Remus followed his gaze and saw a house-elf sitting in the corner looking quite strange; she had a glazed-over look in her eyes, the drink in her hand untouched, as if she didn’t know it was there. As another elf passed, Sirius stopped him. “Oi, mate, what’s wrong with your friend? Had too much to drink, has she?” 

“No,” said the house-elf, looking disapproving and - if Remus wasn’t mistaken - a little _frightened_. “She’s not - she’s unwell, Master Black. Sorry, sir.” 

“Don’t apologise,” Sirius said. “Do you want a mince pie?” The elf shook his head rapidly and then rushed off to join his friends. “Weird.” 

“It is weird,” said Remus. “I might go …” he was already on his feet, handing Sirius the platter. He made his way over to the stricken-looking house-elf and awkwardly cleared his throat.

“Um. Hi. I’m - I’m Remus. Are you alright?” She turned her huge, orb-like eyes in his direction, but didn’t really seem to be looking at him. “Are you okay? Are you ill? Do you need … I don’t know, do you need something?” 

The elf didn’t speak for a long moment, and then she just said “Fine, thanks.” 

“You’re fine? You don’t seem fine, if you don’t mind me saying.” She looked as if she’d suffered a terrible shock. “Did anything - did something happen to you?” 

She looked as if she were about to speak, but then changed her mind. “Fine. Thank you, Master Lupin.” Remus felt guilty, as he always did, that they all knew his name and he didn’t know any of theirs.

“What’s your name?” He asked, trying again to break through. 

“Sukey,” she said, before immediately lapsing into silence again.

“Okay. Okay, well, merry Christmas, Sukey. I hope you feel better.” She didn’t reply. Remus went back over to Sirius, who was eating his third mince pie.

“There’s something wrong with her,” he said, frowning.

“There’s something wrong with all of them. Look at that one, he just wiggled his hips at the girl one in the corner, I’ve never seen something so disturbing in all my life.” He glanced over at Remus, who wasn’t laughing. “Come on. They’ve all had too much to drink. And we should follow their lead lest we get left behind. Can’t be out-partied by a house-elf.” 

They finished the Baileys while watching the house-elves do some sort of conga around the room; they must have been very drunk indeed, because one of them broke free from the line and insisted that Remus and Sirius join them; it was the weirdest thing that had ever happened to him, dancing around the school kitchens with his hands on Sirius’s waist and the tiny hands of a house-elf clutching his own, but it was also hilarious and fun and magical in a way that Remus thought distantly would probably never be replicated as long as he lived. 

They left the kitchens laughing, stumbling, drunk on everything. When they got to the stairs, Remus tripped; Sirius caught him awkwardly, and for a second they stood there, swaying dangerously on the step, one wrong move away from falling spectacularly back down them. 

“Watch it,” Sirius said, hauling him upright and pushing him against the wall to steady him. Both of his hands were holding onto the front of Remus’s jumper. Remus could feel the wall behind him, solid and immovable, and Sirius in front of him, somehow the same. There was a smear of cranberry sauce on Sirius’s collar. He noticed that and a myriad of other little details, wondering why he was doing it and accepting it in the same breath, doing everything he possibly could to avoid looking up and into Sirius’s eyes. 

“You can let go of me now,” Remus mumbled. 

“Can I?” said Sirius, and without looking at him Remus knew he was raising his eyebrows in that dangerous way of his; it was completely unbearable and incredible at the same time, that Sirius would have both hands on his chest and be looking at him like that, pressed against him in the dark stairwell with the distant, ridiculous sound of house-elves singing a drinking song floating up the corridor. He realised he hadn’t answered; he hadn’t said anything, and he was now looking down at his shoes.

Sirius sighed, a frustrated little noise, and let go. Suddenly Remus felt deeply awkward, like he’d said something wrong, even though he hadn’t said anything at all. 

“Um,” he said. “I’m going to go - I’m going to go to the library.”

“Are you - the fucking _library_? It’s Christmas day. You’re drunk.” 

“Yeah,” said Remus, not sure why he’d said it at all. He’d just needed to say _something_ , and the library always felt like a safe option. 

“Okay. Okay, you go to the library,” Sirius said. He was smiling, but he didn’t look particularly happy. “Moony, the library, Christmas; I don’t know why it didn’t make sense to me straight away, it was inevitable.” 

“Inevitable,” Remus agreed, and before he could think about it properly they were walking up the stairs together, and Sirius was saying goodbye at the library entrance, and he was sitting at a desk by himself in the charms section wondering how he’d managed to get there. Muscle memory, he supposed, had led him back to the books he needed for the Homonculous charm. 

As much as he’d ended up there by accident, there was something extremely peaceful about the library today; not even Madam Dubois was there, and he could almost _hear_ the silence out loud even though that made no sense, the thousands of books sitting quietly on their shelves waiting to be read. It was nice not to think. It was nice to be tipsy enough to forget what had just happened, to push it aside and use his brain’s limited capacity to focus only on what was in front of him. He took out the map, which he now carried everywhere out of habit, and spread it out on the desk in front of him. He studied the instructions for the charm again. He ran his hands over the parchment and imagined the space, imagined his magic filling it, thought about the towers and the dungeons and all of the places in-between. 

He wasn’t serious about it when he started muttering the incantation - it was silly to think that this spell might work now, when he was full of Baileys and mince pies and he’d really just popped in here to escape whatever was happening out _there_ \- but it felt right, so he did it. And then it kept feeling right. So he kept doing it. He didn’t know how much time passed - he was lost to the spell entirely, feeling it in his whole body instead of just from brain to arm like he normally did - but eventually he _felt_ something, something significant, and risked opening one eye to look down at the map.

Faintly at first, but getting stronger by the second, the map was changing; little marks, like splotches of ink, were appearing on the parchment. He opened his eyes properly and bent over to look at them, breathing fast; not splotches of ink, _footsteps_. They were _footsteps_. He looked at the map, unfolded another section; there, in his office, neatly labelled. _Argus Filch._

“Bloody hell,” Remus whispered, suddenly so elated he wanted to jump up and down and shout about it, library rules be damned. “Bloody hell, I’ve _done_ it. I’ve actually done it.” He scanned the map quickly, looking for the library; there he was. _Remus Lupin_. He got up and took a few steps forwards; the little footsteps on the map marched in time with him. He moved back. They did too. 

He had no idea what to do with all this energy; he couldn’t remember ever being so elated in his life. He needed to tell Sirius, he needed to find him - but then, that was no trouble at all now. He looked back down at the map, checking Gryffindor tower, the Great Hall, the kitchens again - nothing. Frowning, he turned it back over to the first floor, and then he saw it. _Sirius Black_. Tiny footsteps in the corridor, right outside the library. As he watched, they reached the library entrance, and then abruptly turned and walked away again. The pattern repeated. Pacing. He was _pacing_. 

Remus carefully put the book back on the shelf. He looked at the map again, and then folded it away and put it in his pocket. He stood for a second, flexing his fingers, so full of adrenaline and happiness that if he didn’t do _something_ with it he felt in danger of going off like a bomb. He paused, took a deep breath, and then in a sudden moment of clarity marched across the library and out into the corridor.

Sirius had just made it back to the entrance. He looked so deep in concentration that Remus wanted to laugh; he did, a little, and Sirius looked up, his expression flickering to one of surprise and guilt for the briefest of moments before it became hard and determined again. 

“Remus,” he said, with the air of somebody about to say something of great importance. He looked so serious, and fierce, and a little scared. 

“Padfoot,” Remus said, feeling laughter and pure joy bubbling up in him again. He let out one quick happy huff of breath. He knew he was grinning like an idiot. He felt like he could do anything he put his mind to; like nothing could go wrong for him right now. On a whim he reached out and put one hand on Sirius’s jaw, his fingers sliding up to just below his ear, his thumb resting right by his mouth. Sirius didn’t move. He didn’t speak. He just stared at Remus with that same fierce expression on his face, daring him to look away like he always did.

Instead Remus reached for Sirius’s waist with the other hand, pulled him roughly towards him, and kissed him. 

Art by the [incredible Komodokai.](https://www.instagram.com/komodokai/)


	12. Uncharted Territory

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Required listening for this chapter: End of Desire by MUNA. But you have to imagine you’re Remus while you’re listening, even though the chapter is Sirius’s POV. Listen, I can’t explain it, just … go with it.

Remus was kissing him, and it was the most un-Remus-like kiss he could have imagined; not that he’d allowed himself to imagine much in the way of Remus-kissing, difficult as that had been at times. He could - and had - thought about doing it himself, but he never got further than the first bit - the anticipation, the leaning in - before the Remus in his head backed off or pushed him away or pulled out a heavy book and whacked him over the nose with it like he was a misbehaving dog. Even in his wildest dreams Remus didn’t want to kiss him back, so that made what was happening right now so ridiculous that it felt like a hallucination; Remus sliding a hand up the back of his neck, Remus’s fingers in his hair, Remus sighing quietly into his mouth in a way that called every nerve ending in his body to attention. If it was a hallucination, it was a truly _excellent_ one. 

He didn’t want to scare it away, so he put one tentative hand on Remus’s shoulder and politely resisted the urge to stick his tongue down his throat or slide a hand up his shirt or do any of the other things he was aching to do right now; all that restraint came to nothing, though, because Remus still pulled away. They looked at each other for a second. He could already see the cogs in Remus’s mind turning, which was always a worry. 

“I mean I knew you liked the library,” Sirius said to break the silence. “I just didn’t know how _much.”_

Remus laughed quietly. “Yes,” he said. “The library. I _really_ like the library.” 

Silence again. For once, Sirius was actually lost for words. Every second neither of them spoke was physically painful. He wanted to stay standing right there in the aftermath of that kiss forever, so they couldn’t pretend it hadn’t happened, couldn’t slip back into how things were before; but he could feel that it was already too late, and he had no idea what to do to fix it. 

“You’re still wearing your tiara,” he said stupidly, and Remus reached up and took it off; he immediately wished he hadn’t said anything about it at all. 

“You’re still wearing your Captain’s hat,” he said, almost defensively. 

“Yeah. I think it lends me a certain authority,” Sirius said, but he suddenly felt silly in it. Silence fell again.

“I did it,” Remus said, and Sirius looked at him, puzzled. “I did - I cast the Homonculous charm. Look.” He reached into his pocket and took out the map, then held it out so that Sirius could see. Two little sets of feet, standing so close they were almost touching; two neat labels in Remus’s handwriting. _Sirius Black. Remus Lupin_. 

“Moony,” he said slowly. “You’re a fucking genius. You’re - you’re the greatest wizard of all time. You did this ... and you did it _drunk_?” 

Remus had gone very pink. “Er, yeah.” 

“I can’t believe it. I mean - if anybody was going to do it then obviously it’d be you, but - fucking _hell_.” Usually he’d have clapped him on the back or thrown an arm around him or given him a friendly shove, but suddenly he couldn’t touch him. The absence of it, the non-touching, hung between them in the air. It was excruciating. “This is amazing. Seriously. You’re amazing.” 

“Thanks,” Remus said, not looking at him. They were standing far too close together for two people who decidedly were not kissing. “Shall we - do you want to go back to the common room?”   
  
“Sure,” said Sirius, playing at cheerfulness. _If you don’t acknowledge it, it isn’t happening_. _If you act like everything’s fine, it’s fine_. It had a nice ring to it; perhaps he could suggest it as the new Black family motto. 

Everything clearly wasn’t fine. It wasn’t fine all the way up the stairs, or in the common room where they sat awkwardly in armchairs and made the smallest of small-talk about the map and what it meant; it wasn’t fine when Sirius offered Remus another drink, and Remus said no like Sirius was trying to poison him. It wasn’t fine up in the dormitory, where Sirius sat on his bed looking at his hands and trying not to scream while Remus got ready for bed and studiously ignored him. 

Sirius was starting to wonder if he’d done something wrong. Had he taken advantage of Remus’s good mood? The fact that he was drunk? But no, that wasn’t right - Remus had kissed _him_. Unless he’d somehow tricked him into doing it? But he had no idea how he could have done that. It just felt so clear to him that he’d made a mistake; there was a heavy weight in his stomach, a leaden sort of feeling that he only really associated with Black family dinners and … well, and fights with Remus. 

But it was ridiculous. They hadn’t had a fight. They’d arguably had the exact opposite of a fight. Remus climbed into bed and turned his light out and didn’t even say goodnight, or merry Christmas, and suddenly Sirius wasn’t going to stand for it.

“Oi,” he said, which probably wasn’t the strongest start.

“What?” Remus said warily into the dark. 

“Can we just - can we stop acting like pricks, please?” 

“I’m acting like a prick?” 

“No. Well. _Yes_. Just - come here.” 

“Come … over there?” 

“ _Yes_.” 

Sirius didn’t think he was going to do it - not again, not for the second night in a row - but he did. He sat down on the very edge of the bed, like he was worried it would collapse under the two of them; as if he hadn’t been asleep there just twenty-four hours ago. It had been, Sirius reflected, the longest and perhaps most significant Christmas day of his life. 

“You kissed me,” Sirius said defiantly, like Remus was going to deny it. He didn’t, but Sirius felt him shift uncomfortably. His eyes hadn’t adjusted to the dark yet, but he could imagine Remus’s face, twisted in that trademark awkward grimace of his. 

“Er,” said Remus, sounding strangled. “Sorry.” 

“Stop it. Don’t apologise,” Sirius said, and he heard Remus sigh and go to say something else, but he cut him off. “No. I’m not doing this. I’m not doing this fucking drawn-out agony bit, I’m not - I don’t want you overthinking everything and us acting like we were never even friends and - I don’t know, giving each other wistful, yearning looks from across the common room. Can’t hack it. Don’t do yearning. You kissed me, and I wanted you to kiss me, and we kissed. Fucking hell. It’s a _good_ thing, Moony.” 

“It’s a good thing,” Remus repeated, and he didn’t sound quite sure of himself, but he wasn’t cringing away any more, so that was a start.

“Yes,” said Sirius, feeling lighter now that he’d said it. He squinted at Remus’s vague form in the darkness, the lines of him just starting to get clearer in the faint moonlight. “You could do it again, you know. If you liked.” 

Remus let out a shaky breath. “It wasn’t - it wasn’t really premeditated,” he said. 

“Well, it was a kiss, not a violent crime.” 

“I just don’t know if I can do that again.”

“Well. It’s dark. Nobody will know. Maybe I won’t even know. I can’t really see you, so it could be anybody throwing themselves at me. Can’t blame you for it, people are always doing it. I’m very popular.” 

“I didn’t _throw_ myself at you.” 

“Well, why don’t you do it again and we can hash out the details of the retelling afterwards.” 

Remus made a frustrated sort of noise, and Sirius held his breath - but then Remus was right next to him, and he sat up properly to meet him.

“Hi,” he said, smiling, even though Remus couldn’t see it.

“Hi,” said Remus.

“Best if you just do it, I reckon. Like ripping off a plaster. Like jumping off a cliff - although, hopefully not _too_ much like jumping off a cliff. A small cliff. The longer you think about it, the more-” he didn’t have to finish, because as he’d predicted, Remus had kissed him just to get him to shut up.

Sirius quickly realised that kissing in bed was very different to kissing in the first floor corridor. It was like the difference between practicing a spell in the classroom and actually using it to fight off a mountain troll; one was all safety and rehearsal, and the other was real and dangerous and came with pesky consequences. He refused to think about them now, but he knew Remus would be, even as he leaned over Sirius and cautiously put a hand to his chest; even as Sirius pushed up into the kiss and had the satisfaction of hearing Remus’s breath catch in his throat as he did so.

Kissing Marlene always felt lazy and indulgent, something they were doing to pass the time; kissing Remus felt gloriously intentional. They were crossing a line, here; Sirius wondered distantly if this would ruin their friendship forever, but then Remus ran a gentle thumb over Sirius’s collarbone, and Sirius decided he didn’t give one single shit. 

“Um,” Remus said, pulling away from him. “Can I just - er-”

“What? Do you need permission to go to the library again?” 

“Oh, fuck off,” Remus said crossly, and Sirius laughed. “I’m trying to - I don’t know. What are we doing?” 

“If you really don’t know then I’ll come _with_ you to the library and we can find out if they have any books. With diagrams.” 

“Can you stop being such an arsehole for one minute-”

“No,” Sirius said honestly. “But I can probably stop talking for - I don’t know - I’ll give you ten seconds.” 

“Fine. Fine.” He used up at least five of his allotted seconds sitting in silence. “I didn’t know you liked me.” 

“What? Of course I like you. I spend literally every waking minute with you. Me, you, Wormtail; we’re basically Prongs’s sister wives. Or - brother husbands, would it be?” 

“Do I want to know what you’re talking about?”   
  
“Absolutely definitely not.” 

“I mean, I didn’t know you … _fancied_ me,” Remus said, as if the very word pained him. Sirius could see him properly now in the faint light. He was definitely blushing. 

“Hmm,” said Sirius. He resisted the urge to say the first, stupid thing that came into his head; this required a bit of delicacy. Diplomacy. All the things that usually escaped him. “Don’t take this the wrong way, Moony, but I hadn’t really thought about it a whole lot. Just because - well, because I try not to think about _anything_ too much. As you well know.” Remus was looking a little bit hurt and disappointed, which was the exact opposite of what he was trying to achieve. “I do fancy you, though. Look at me. Right here. Fancying you. I just don’t think I really _knew_ I did.”

“But - I don’t understand,” Remus said. “You were always - I mean I couldn’t tell if you were singling me out, or if that’s just how you _are_ with people, you flirt with literally everything sentient, and a few things that aren’t - I swear I saw you coming on to the Whomping Willow once-”

“Ah, yes. He’s feisty, but I know he just needs the love of a good man. Also, Moony, who’s to say he isn’t sentient? I think he winks at me sometimes. He likes it when we go in his tunnel.” 

“For fuck’s - look, I’m not getting into this now. But I just - I couldn’t tell, really, but then it felt like maybe things had changed. When we were on the stairs earlier-” 

“I mean, yeah, I wanted to snog you. I don’t know where it came from, Remus, but obviously I did.” 

“You did?”   
  
“Christ, yes. And look, I’ve thought about it before. Especially when you get all annoyed and red and look like you want to hit me. I just thought - well, you basically seemed repulsed by me, which was always confusing as I’m such a delight. So I didn’t let it get any further than that. In my brain. I must have fancied you, but it didn’t seem like a real possibility, so I just tried to switch it off. See? Clearly some thought did go into this. It’s a miracle.” 

“You put some thought into not thinking about it?”  
  
“Exactly,” said Sirius, patting him on the shoulder. “Did you fancy me? You don’t have to be ashamed to admit it, Moony. Very few are impervious to my charms; the Whomping Willow is probably the notable exception.” 

“Um,” said Remus. “I’d prefer not to answer that.” 

“Well, I know what that means. You longed for me. You pined for me. You drew little wolves and dogs humping all over your notebooks.”

“Shut _up_. Please. I’m very confused right now.” 

“It’s because we’re talking,” Sirius said helpfully, “instead of kissing.” 

“So you don’t feel like - I don’t know, like I sort of - attacked you? Outside the library?” Sirius laughed aloud at this, despite the genuine concern in Remus’s voice. 

“Yes, it was awful. So bad that I snogged your face off and then came up here and asked you to do it again.” 

“It’s not _funny_ , Sirius, it’s just-” 

“Brace yourself. I’m going on the attack.” He was joking, but as soon as he had his hands on Remus’s shoulders he did get a bit carried away; he pushed him down onto the bed, enjoying hearing all the air go out of him at once in surprise, _especially_ enjoying the way Remus seemed to lift his whole body up off the mattress to reach him so that they could kiss again. How did Remus get so good at kissing? Sirius assumed that _he_ was pretty great at it, but he’d kissed a lot of people; he’d never seen Remus with anybody, so how did he know to run his hand through Sirius’s hair, or pull him closer by the waist, or do that particular _thing_ with his tongue that he was so enjoying?

“Who have you been kissing?” He said accusingly, slightly muffled by Remus’s mouth. 

“What?” said Remus, letting his head drop back onto the covers. 

“You’re good at it. Kissing. Where did you get the practice? You never told me you’d been running around snogging people.”

“Er - I haven’t,” said Remus. “I’m good at kissing?” 

“This is mental. Can you revise it? Are there _actually_ books about it in the library? How come I haven’t found them? I really did go looking for dirty ones in second year, but I got confused because I don’t know the - you know, the decimal thing.”   
  
“The Dewey decimal system?” 

“God, I love it when you talk dirty.” 

“Very funny,” said Remus, and he glared up defiantly at Sirius for a second before kissing him, hard. If this was his new reaction to being annoyed, Sirius was fully prepared to be his worst possible self at all times. He let himself fall down next to Remus so they were side by side, so they could properly curl into each other as they kissed, just a tangle of arms and legs and hip-bones. It felt thrilling, and new, but it was something else too - comfortable. Comforting. A salve for something he didn’t know needed soothing. He could have stayed there, kissing quietly in the dark, for an indeterminable amount of time - maybe forever - but he was suddenly kissing Remus more urgently now, trying to pull him even closer. His imagination, which had once stopped abruptly at the idea of kissing him at all, was running riot; he tried to keep it in check. Failed. Broke off the kiss and rolled over onto his back so he could stare at the canopy above him and take a few calming breaths, which did absolutely nothing at all to help. 

“We should go to bed,” Remus said eventually.

“We’re in bed,” said Sirius, his voice a little strained.

“No, I mean, we should go to sleep. We’re drunk, and it’s late, and - I don’t know. Aren’t you tired?”   
  
_No_ , Sirius thought. _No, and I’ll never be tired again_. “Yeah,” he said out loud. “Yeah, okay.” 

“I’m going to - I’ll go back to mine,” Remus said. Sirius very badly wanted him to stay, but equally didn’t want to tip him over into some sort of existential crisis - Remus _always_ seemed on the verge of one of those - so he nodded. Best to play it safe - to take it slow - or he might startle like a frightened rabbit, and never come back. That wouldn’t do at all, now that Sirius knew what it was like to be pressed up against him in the middle of the night; but he was trying not to think too hard about that. 

Remus lay for a moment where he was and then suddenly got up and crossed the room to his own bed. Sirius lay on top of the covers, still staring up at the canopy, still feeling as if this was all just a very visceral dream he was having. He could hear Remus breathing evenly a few feet away from him.

“Moony,” he said quietly, and he heard bed sheets rustling. 

“What?” 

“In the morning, can you - just promise me we won’t pretend this didn’t happen, yeah?” 

Remus was quiet for a moment, and Sirius bit down on his lip, hard, as he waited. “Yeah,” Remus said eventually. “Yeah, okay.” 

“It did happen, didn’t it?” 

He heard Remus laugh softly, and smiled reflexively at the sound. “Yes, Padfoot. It happened. I promise. Go to sleep.” 

Eventually, Sirius did.


	13. Codes and Clues

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, the song for this chapter is Crash My Car by COIN. I don’t know what your reading speed is, but listen, if this were a film then I know exactly when the chorus would hit; I reckon you want to press play at approximately “Alright, then shut the fuck up about it then” for maximum impact. Do I have too much time on my hands? MAYBE, BUT WE ALL DO. Thank you for your comments. I love them.

“Stop staring at me,” Sirius said, looking up from his toast. “It’s very unnerving.” 

“I’m not fucking staring at you,” Remus replied hotly, wishing he could drown himself in his cup of tea. “I’m sitting opposite you. Sometimes my eyes might travel in your direction. It’s not staring.” 

“Methinks the Moony doth protest too much.”  
  
“That’s not even how it - wait, you’ve read _Hamlet_?” 

“Don’t be silly. I don’t know how to read.” 

“I know you think it’s very endearing when you say things like that, but I actually find it horrifying,” Remus said, reaching for the copy of the _Daily Prophet_ that had just been deposited by owl next to his plate. 

“You find everything horrifying. Speaking of,” he nodded at the paper. 

Remus skimmed it, frowning. “Nothing new,” he said eventually with relief. 

“Well, Death Eaters need time off at Christmas too. Need to tell offensive muggle jokes around the dinner table, scrub the blood off their robes before they go back to work - that sort of thing.” 

“Death Eaters?” Remus carefully folded the paper again and pushed it away from him. 

“Yeah, that’s what - well, Marlene told me that’s what they’re calling themselves these days.” At this mention of Marlene, Sirius had the decency to look a little bit guilty, although whether it was for going behind her back or mentioning her now, Remus couldn’t tell. 

They were playing at normality right now. Despite what Sirius had said the night before, Remus had woken up in the morning fully expecting an awkward chasm to have opened up between them, but Sirius had been his usual self - so, vaguely annoying - all morning. The one sign that things had changed was that when Remus had come out of the bathroom after getting dressed and bumped right into him, Sirius had briefly put a hand on his waist as he slipped past to brush his teeth; nothing to write home about, waist-touching, but Remus couldn’t remember him ever doing something like that before. A punch in the ribs, yes. But not this. He felt as if he could still feel Sirius’s hand on him, even though it was currently fully occupied spreading more peanut butter on his toast. 

“Death Eaters is a stupid name,” was all Remus said, and Sirius shrugged.

“They’re following a man so unhinged that when he didn’t get a job here he started murdering people instead. You’d think he’d go - oh, alright then, maybe private tutor or - at a stretch, maybe exam invigilator. But no. Straight to cult leader. It’s a miracle they get _anything_ done, really.” He took a large bite of his toast. Remus was too nervous to be hungry; he poured himself another small cup of Earl Grey, ignoring the fact that he was so jittery from the first two that his hands were shaking slightly. 

“What’s the plan today, then? Third floor?” Sirius said, once he’d managed to rid his mouth of peanut butter.

“Third floor,” said Remus, getting out the map; now that it was charmed it was far too powerful to be out in the open, but as there were currently only four other people in the Great Hall and none of them were sitting anywhere near them, he felt it was safe to unfold it. “Lily said the passage she’d heard about was meant to be somewhere around here.” He tapped a stretch of corridor near the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. Sirius leaned over to look, dropping crumbs, which Remus pointedly swept away. 

“Great,” said Sirius. “Let’s go.” 

They had the cloak with them today, despite how empty the castle was; if they were going to be poking around trying to find an actual secret passageway, it didn’t seem wise to do it in plain sight. As soon as they’d left the Great Hall Sirius yanked him behind a pillar by his sleeve, and threw the cloak over both of them. 

“Hello,” he said, grinning. They were face to face under the heavy fabric, and Remus felt his heart rate elevate to almost unbearable levels within seconds, but then he heard footsteps; one of the other students had left breakfast and was walking up the stairs, feet passing just inches above their heads. It was amazing, he thought, how he could feel so invisible and so exposed at the same time; but then, he felt like that all the time. 

“Third floor, then?”

“Yep, yep. Right,” Sirius said, and they set off towards the stairs. If Remus had found it difficult to maneuver under the cloak with four of them, it paled in comparison to what it was like now, even with half the bodies; they were both trying to be polite about the proximity, their shoulders bumping together as they climbed, Remus desperate to know what was going on inside Sirius’s head.

The truth was that between getting back into his own bed the previous night and waking up in it that morning, Remus had convinced himself that it was all a stupendously bad idea. The fact that Sirius hadn’t thought any of this through - had wanted to kiss him on some random impulse - had been snogging _Marlene_ up until a few days ago; well, none of it felt particularly promising. They were best friends, they had to share a room and a sink and a James and a Peter, and if there was a chance that they were going to destroy all of that, they certainly shouldn’t be doing it on a whim.  
  
Not that it was really a whim for Remus, if he was honest with himself - but all the Unforgivable Curses in the world couldn’t force him to do _that_. 

When they reached the third floor it was deserted; Remus checked the map again and then nodded down the corridor in the direction of a life-sized statue of a witch that he’d never looked at closely before. They had only made it halfway there when Sirius stopped suddenly, looked back over his shoulder, and pushed Remus sideways into an alcove that housed a drinking fountain. 

“Ow,” he hissed, rubbing his elbow. “What the fuck was that? Is someone coming?”  
  
“We’re invisible. Who cares if someone’s coming.” The cloak had slipped a little, but Sirius had yanked it back into place.

“Then why did you-”  
  
“Why do you think?” Sirius had reached for his sore elbow, as if he were going to rub it too; instead his hand landed on Remus’s forearm and stayed there. Remus could feel a pulse thudding where Sirius’s thumb was resting on his skin, but couldn’t tell who it belonged to. 

“Oh.” 

“Well, there’s no need to sound so fucking _enthused,_ you’d think I was telling you that you had an unexpected dentist appointment.” 

“I’m not - er,” Remus took a little half-step away from him, and Sirius frowned and removed his hand. 

“Wait - are we _actually_ here to look for secret passages?” 

“Well, yeah,” said Remus, looking at his shoes as if they were doing something particularly interesting. “What, did you think it was some sort of dirty code?” 

“Yes,” said Sirius incredulously, as if that should have been abundantly clear. “Do you still _want_ to kiss me?” he demanded, and Remus wished for the millionth time in his life that he didn’t blush tomato-red every time anybody said anything vaguely inappropriate.  
  
“Yeah,” he said quietly, almost wincing. 

“Are you sure?” 

“ _Yes_ ,” Remus said, a little bit belligerent now.  
  
“Then why don’t you just fucking do it?” said Sirius. 

“I don’t know,” Remus said miserably. He forced himself to look at Sirius properly. “You’ve got a bit of peanut butter by your mouth.” 

“Right. Well are you allergic?” Sirius said through gritted teeth. 

“What?”  
  
“To peanuts,” Sirius said slowly, as if he were being unforgivably dim. “Do you have a secret peanut allergy you’ve hidden from me for the past five years?”  
  
“No?”  
  
“Alright, then shut the fuck up about it then,” he said, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand before pulling Remus to him and kissing him so abruptly that Remus hit his elbow on the fountain again. He didn’t mind so much this time; it was hard to mind with one of Sirius’s arms around him, his fingers pressed into the small of his back. Remus leaned in to the kiss, all misgivings forgotten, trying to get even closer than they already were; Sirius didn’t let him, somehow managing to hold him at arm’s length. He was being infuriatingly gentle, as if Remus might be frightened off at any minute. They kissed for a length of time that Remus didn’t care to quantify before he broke it off.

“You don’t have to - you don’t have to hold back, you know,” he said, Sirius’s hand still resting lightly on his back. “I’m not going to - I don’t know, faint, or start screaming, or run away.” 

“Er, Moony,” Sirius said, not looking as if he believed him. “About ten seconds ago you couldn’t even look me in the eye.” 

“Right, well. I’m looking at you now, aren’t I?”

“You’re _very_ confusing.” 

“Well I’m sorry, I’m just _saying_ , you don’t have to act like I’m some - some inexperienced loser who can’t cope with-” He didn’t get to finish this sentence, because Sirius had grabbed him by his collar and pushed him roughly into the wall.

“Is this the sort of thing you meant?” Sirius mumbled into his neck, sliding one hand up the front of Remus’s shirt while he used the other to gently turn his head to the side so that he could kiss him somewhere between his collarbone and his ear.

Remus tried to reply, but felt Sirius’s teeth graze his skin and made a rather embarrassing sound instead. _Thank fuck for invisibility cloaks,_ he thought, closing his eyes and letting his head fall back into the wall. _Thank fuck for Christmas, thank fuck for maps_. He was sure there was something else he wanted to thank next, but Sirius’s hand dropped to his hipbone and his brain stalled on the word _fuck_. 

He tried pushing his own hand up under the fabric of Sirius’s t-shirt and was rewarded with an immediate response; Sirius swore loudly, pressed him hard into the wall, stopped kissing his neck so that he could kiss him on the mouth again, both hands reaching up to Remus’s jaw as if holding him in place there-

A door slammed somewhere nearby and Remus jumped; Sirius dropped his head to Remus’s shoulder for a second, resting it there as if gathering himself, and then stepped away from him. 

“Maybe we should-” he started, running an agitated hand through his hair, “I don’t know. I don’t know. It’s ten o’ clock in the morning.”  
  
“Are you saying it’s too early for this?” Remus said, a little bit out of breath. 

“I fucking hope not, that’s the dullest thing I’ve ever - but listen, you really wanted to look for the passage, yeah? That’s why we’re here. Before - distractions.”  
  
“I don’t mind,” Remus said mildly. “I was quite enjoying the ... distractions.” 

“For fuck’s sake, you horny bastard, what do I have to do to get you to take cartography seriously?” 

“I can’t believe you remembered it’s called cartography.” 

“Yeah, well, I’m trying to impress this really nerdy guy. You know the type. Prefect. Scruffy-looking. All pent-up angst and polite self-discipline, but totally filthy when you catch him just outside the library.” 

“Oh, fuck off,” Remus said, but his heart wasn’t in it. He straightened up, smoothing down his shirt. “Okay. Let’s look for the passageway. Come on.” 

They stood for quite a while by the statue of the one-eyed witch, examining her from every angle, prodding at anything that might be some sort of secret button for entry; Remus tried a few spells half-heartedly, rightfully not expecting any of them to work. When they crouched down to try to look underneath her, Sirius casually put his hand on Remus’s shoulder blade, which made it extremely difficult for him to concentrate on whether or not the worn-down markings he was scrutinizing were runes or just dents in the stonework. 

They didn’t find anything on the statue. They didn’t find anything in the immediate vicinity, either. Remus knew he should be frustrated, knew distantly that some part of him would care about this later, but for some reason it kept being driven out of his mind; Sirius kept finding little ways to touch him as they searched, and every time he did it all thoughts of maps and ghosts and Slytherins vanished from his brain. They climbed the steps to the fourth floor, wondering if Lily’s information might have been off by one staircase; Sirius pressed his hand into Remus’s waist while he was trying to look at the map and he gave up on it completely, letting it fall between them as he reached for Sirius and kissed him.

“Careful Moony,” Sirius said, laughing into his mouth. “The map! Your life’s work!” They both looked down at it; it was admittedly a little bit crumpled. Remus laughed, too, at how ridiculous it was that he actually didn’t care. 

It was like he’d stepped right into a fantasy; one of the ones he kept locked up tight in his head until he was lying awake in the middle of the night and couldn’t keep them under control any longer. They spent the next few days ostensibly working on the map, exploring the castle under the cloak, but everything took ten times longer than it should have done because Remus kept putting his arm around Sirius’s waist or kissing one of his high cheekbones on impulse, knowing that Sirius would stop whatever he was doing and practically knock him over in his haste to touch as much of Remus as possible in return. 

They made it to the seventh floor on New Year’s Eve; having already consumed a certain amount of Baileys and whiskey before they got there, they were being careless, and as a result Filch almost walked straight into them while they were kissing in the middle of the corridor under the cloak. Sirius nearly broke an arm trying to get them out of the way in time, and they laughed quietly about it from behind a well-placed statue until Sirius pulled Remus to him again and the laughter stopped. 

The closer they got to the end of the holidays, the harder it was for Remus to ignore the gnawing feeling in the pit of his stomach; the knowledge that this couldn’t last, because soon the castle would be full of people, and they’d be back to sharing a dormitory with James and Peter. He didn’t know how Sirius would be with him when Christmas was over and real life started up again. They hadn’t even come close to talking about it; they hadn’t talked about any of this at _all_ , had skirted around it by kissing almost constantly and bickering as usual when they weren’t. At night Remus always slipped back into his own bed again, not wanting to overstay his welcome; Sirius always let him go without a word. 

In just two days he knew everything would change, and combination of that thought and all the alcohol he’d been drinking was making him reckless now as he leaned against the back of the statue, running his fingernails down Sirius’s back under his shirt, smiling to himself when Sirius swore under his breath and and put an urgent hand to Remus’s chest in response. They were kissing frantically, as if their time alone was going to run out within minutes rather than days. Sirius dropped his hand lower, then hesitated. Remus felt like his skin was on fire. 

“Okay?” Sirius muttered, His breath smelled like whiskey and liquorice. Remus was mortified to hear that his response came out in what would politely be called a whimper. 

“Yes. I mean - um, yep.” 

He felt deft fingers slide under the waistband of his boxers and shivered, the feeling running through his entire body; he forgot where they were, forgot that theoretically Filch could walk past again at any minute, and a few minutes later was distantly confused when Sirius firmly pressed a hand over his mouth and laughed softly.

“Moony, I don’t mean to be indelicate, but if you keep making those _noises_ you’re going to give away our position.” 

They were sitting side by side on the floor with their backs to the wall a while later when Sirius squinted up at the statue and said “She should make friends with that witch on the third floor - then they’d both have the right amount of parts.”

“What?” Remus looked at the statue properly for the first time; it did look quite familiar, now that he mentioned it.

“You know - the one downstairs has only got one eye, and this one’s got two and she’s _holding_ an eye as well - seems a bit mean not to redistribute the wealth, if you’ve got a spare.” 

“She’s holding an eye-” Remus said, comprehension dawning as he scrambled to his feet, pulling Sirius up with him. He bent down to look at the base of the statue and sure enough, exactly where he thought he’d seen the ghost of a pattern in the one downstairs, there were runes carved clearly into the stone. “Padfoot. You’re a genius.” 

“I know,” said Sirius, grinning. “Wait. Why?” 

“The statues are twins, they’re - I bet this is some sort of password for the one downstairs.”

“Library?” said Sirius. 

“Library.” 

*

“ _Dissendium_.” Nothing happened.

“Here, let me try,” Sirius said, giving his wand an enthusiastic flick as he repeated the incantation they had translated. The one-eyed witch squinted back at them, unmoved. “Hmm. Maybe you need to sort of - poke her with it. Find the right spot.” 

Remus gamely tapped his wand on various parts of the statue, leaving nothing up to chance. 

“Bloody hell, buy the girl a drink first,” Sirius said, watching with one eyebrow raised as Remus bent down to tap her somewhere rather undignified. 

“Shut up. _Dissendium_.” 

Again, nothing. Remus was about to try again when he heard a cracking sound, and then the slow grind of stone on stone; the witch’s hump was opening, revealing an entrance just big enough for a person to slip inside. He turned to look at Sirius, his eyes bright with excitement; Sirius was grinning broadly at him.

“Fucking hell, Moony,” he said, squeezing his shoulder. “You’re going to be Hogwarts headmaster. You’re going to be the Minister for Magic. Maybe I can be your pet dog and just curl up under your desk and eat all your chocolate.” 

“Chocolate’s poisonous to dogs,” Remus said, smiling back at him. “Remember when you ate loads of mine and couldn’t stop throwing up even after you transformed back? Remember how angry McGonagall was when she came to see what was wrong and you made a joke about allergies and threw up on her shoes?”  
  
“Stop shitting on my dreams, Moony. _Fine_. I’ll sit under your desk and find other ways to occupy myself.” Remus immediately climbed into the tunnel just so Sirius couldn’t see the look on his face. They traversed it slowly and carefully, wands raised, until they reached a trapdoor that opened up into a dark, empty, very sweet-smelling cellar. 

They were giddy with triumph by the time they got back to the castle, Sirius’s pockets full of the toffees he’d stolen from Honeydukes as trophies; he’d tried to stop Remus from leaving a handful of sickles on top of the box to pay for them - “it cheapens the whole thing, Moony, we’re meant to be thieves in the night” - but had given in. 

“There’s no way the Slytherins know about it,” Remus said in the common room after he’d carefully added it to the map. “The people at Honeydukes would have noticed if they were popping up through the cellar - and come to think of it, if they really _are_ working with Voldemort, they’d have told him about it and he’d probably have come strolling up the third floor corridor to murder Dumbledore.” 

“Stands to reason that they don’t know about any passages, then,” Sirius said thoughtfully. 

“S’pose so. We can’t know for sure, though. And I still want to find out what happened to that ghost - don’t look at me like that, it’s _interesting_. It’s a shame you’re rubbish at acting, or you could have gone deep undercover and found out what the Slytherins are up to.” He took the toffee that Sirius was offering him. “On second thoughts, you’d be a terrible double agent; as soon as they started mouthing off about blood purity and ‘magic is might’ you’d just start punching.” 

“If anything that just tells you I have integrity,” Sirius said loftily. “And also that I like to punch people.” 

Flitwick had arranged magical fireworks for the handful of students and teachers at the castle for New Year’s Eve; they all trooped up to the top of the astronomy tower ten minutes before midnight so they could watch, Professor Grubbly-Plank pointedly ignoring the fact that Remus and Sirius were so drunk they had to grip the edge of the battlements very firmly to stay upright. It was a clear, cold night, and Remus was full of firewhiskey and victory and the thrill of Sirius next to him, chuckling in his ear as they watched Slughorn run about the grounds below them trying to carry out Flitwick’s detailed instructions. 

As they counted down to midnight and watched the night sky explode with sparks that formed into roses, daisies, lilies and forget-me-nots, Sirius reached for his hand under their robes and squeezed it tightly, Remus turning to watch the fireworks reflected in his laughing eyes. Later, back in the dormitory, Remus took off Sirius’s shirt with shaking hands and fell asleep a few hours later with his fingers still tangled in Sirius’s hair, forgetting that he had told himself he would go back to his own bed. 

He wasn’t sure if he was dreaming or awake when he felt Sirius kiss him gently on the forehead, pull the blanket up over his shoulders and whisper “happy new year”. 


	14. A Midnight Feast

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short one today. And. Er. The song for this chapter is When The Party’s Over by Billie Eilish. I’m so sorry

“James got a fancy new camera for Christmas because he’s very posh and rich,” Sirius said, holding up the camera in question so the others could look at it. They had pulled all the pillows and blankets off their beds to create a sort of nest on the floor of the dormitory, so that they could catch up away from the clamour of the common room. 

“As if you’re not also posh,” James said, snatching the camera back and seeming to check it for injuries. 

“Yeah,” said Sirius, raising an eyebrow at him, “But I’m the kind of posh where my parents are second cousins and we try not to think about it too much.”

“Hard not to, though, when it explains so much about the way you are,” Remus said, going a little bit pink when Sirius winked at him. Lately that look on Remus’s face would be Sirius’s signal to go and knock him over or affectionately bite him somewhere inappropriate, and it took all of his meagre stores of self-restraint not to.

“As they’ve essentially disowned me and I have no plans to return can we get back to the matter at hand?” He said instead, grabbing the camera again despite James’s protests. “Which is, of course, taking a million photos on James’s fancy new camera while he pretends not to mind but gets all red in the face about the price of film.”

“Film is really expensive, Sirius, and I had to get it sent all the way from - oh come on, what was that even a picture _of?”_

“Wouldn’t you like to know.” 

_“_ They’ve disowned you?” said Peter, his brow wrinkling in concern. 

“There’s no need to cry about it, Wormtail, I certainly won’t be.” He felt Remus glance over at him, and pretended not to notice. “Anyway, I’m a lone wolf now - sorry, Moony, it’s just a turn of phrase - out on my own. A man about town. Sleeping under the stars.”  
  
“My parents have already bought you a new duvet cover for the spare room,” James said. “They’ve put a little sign on the door that says ‘Sirius Black’.” 

“Yeah, well,” said Sirius. “I’m the son they never had.” 

Over butterbeer and an endless supply of Christmas chocolate that James and Peter had brought from home, Remus told them about the map; he told them about the charm, and the tunnel to Honeydukes, and the second passageway they’d found on New Year’s Day which opened up into a cave big enough to hold at least fifteen people. Sirius tried very hard not to interrupt; the map was Remus’s, really, so the story belonged to him. Not that he was telling the _whole_ story. He filled in the blanks in his head as Remus talked; their meeting outside the library - snogging him triumphantly in the Honeydukes cellar - the way Remus had looked on New Year’s Eve in the moonlight when he’d- anyway. Now wasn’t the time. 

James was looking at the map reverently. “Imagine the pranks,” he said wistfully, and Remus rolled his eyes.

“I mean I think we can think of better uses for - hang on, what are you doing?”  
  
“Nothing,” James said guiltily. He had unfolded the section of the map that depicted Gryffindor tower and had been staring intently at it; Sirius leaned over to confirm his suspicions.

“Moony didn’t perform an incredible feat of magic so you could stalk Evans, Prongs.”  
  
“I’m not stalking her,” James said indignantly. 

“Tell me you don’t know where she is right now. Look me in the eye and tell me.” James couldn’t. Sirius laughed. “Go on then, where is she?” 

“In the girl’s bathrooms,” James said reluctantly, and Remus threw a pillow at him. “Oi! Anyway, I think she might actually be coming round to the idea of liking me.” 

“Well,” said Remus, “that’s only two degrees of separation from actually liking you, so it’s closer than you’ve ever been before.” 

“This’ll come in handy at full moon,” James said, abruptly changing the subject. “When _is_ full moon?” 

“Wednesday the fifth,” Sirius said. Everybody looked at him. “What? I know things.” 

“Debatable,” said James. 

“Can you fuck off back to the West Country? It was so peaceful without you here,” Sirius said, giving him a shove. 

“Yeah, right,” James said, laughing. “You’ve never been peaceful in your entire life. Poor Moony, I bet you corrupted him endlessly. He looks exhausted.” 

Remus took a large sip of his butterbeer and Sirius laughed. “It was the other way around. He made me go to the _library_.” 

“It’s okay, Pads,” James said consolingly, patting him on the leg. “It’s over now. He can’t hurt you any more.” 

*

They had to drag James away from the common room when the full moon came; for the second time that year, he was deep in conversation with Lily, who didn’t seem to have kicked him in the shins or told him to fuck off yet. It was, Sirius thought, some sort of miracle. 

“How’s the map going, Lupin?” she said to Remus as they converged on James to convince him to leave.

“Oh, you know. Thankless work,” he replied cheerfully, but he didn’t look thrilled about it when he turned away from her. Sirius knew that Remus hated outright lying; it was half-truths and smaller deceptions of omission that he really excelled in. He’d reached for Remus’s arm without thinking on that first night when everyone was back at the castle, and Remus had walked right past him as if he didn’t exist; his hand had hung stupidly in the air for a moment before he’d put it in his pocket. 

They hadn’t been alone together since term had started, and Sirius felt like he was going slowly insane. He’d always had a bad habit of doing whatever came into his head as soon as it occurred to him, which usually played out with varying levels of success, but now he kept having to stop halfway through an impulse so he didn’t put an arm around Remus or kiss him in the middle of a sentence; Remus wouldn’t even meet his eye, so he could hardly imagine that a display of affection would go down particularly well. The whole thing was making him feel very irritable and twitchy. On the second night he had lain awake, getting more and more confused and frustrated and annoyed, until he’d decided to get out of bed and creep over to Remus, whispering his name in the dark. He couldn’t tell if Remus had actually been asleep or had just done an excellent job of pretending, but he’d gone back to his own bed with a strange, hollow feeling somewhere in the region of his stomach.

The real problem had come when Marlene had spotted him across the common room the next day and made a beeline for him; she’d given him a friendly punch on the arm and immediately put her arms up around the back of his neck, clearly expecting them to fall right back into how they’d been before Christmas. Sirius supposed she had no reason to believe otherwise - and it wasn’t as if Remus seemed to care either way - so he’d put an arm around her waist and laughed when she told him ridiculous war stories from the McKinnon family Christmas. Part of him _wanted_ Remus to see - wanted it to shock him into action, to force him to say something - but when Marlene reached up to kiss him and he actually saw Remus standing by the stairs to the dormitories looking like he’d been punched in the stomach, Sirius wanted to take it back immediately. He’d caught Remus’s eye and watched his face change, seen his jaw tighten as he took a deep breath; by the time he’d disentangled himself from Marlene, Remus had been long gone. 

He was glad of an excuse to be Padfoot tonight, because he badly needed to let off some steam; he couldn’t bear to get under the cloak with Remus and had told the others to go ahead without him to the Whomping Willow. He followed them at a distance, watched to make sure Remus was safely delivered into the tunnel and then ran full-pelt towards the Forbidden Forest, enjoying the burn in his lungs and his legs as his head cleared and emptied; he transformed in one great leap when he reached the trees, and seconds later he heard the thundering of hooves behind him. 

He let Prongs chase him through the dark for a long time, leaping over tree roots and fallen branches, then turned on him and snapped at his heels; they squared up to each other and then play-fought relentlessly, Padfoot only narrowly avoiding a hoof to the skull but not caring, eventually leaping headlong into Prongs’s neck and sending them both crashing to the forest floor. Wormtail had been with them at one point, but he must have fallen behind, because they were alone now; Padfoot tried to communicate a question to Prongs, but all that came out was a low whine. He huffed with frustration and became Sirius again, brushing mud off his jeans as James appeared next to him, out of breath and sweaty with exertion. 

"You alright, Padfoot?" James said, and Sirius closed his eyes to put off replying; he and James didn't usually talk feelings beyond monologues about Evans. Kicking each other around the forest was so much easier. 

“Yeah," Sirius said eventually, his chest heaving. "Yeah, fine. Where’s Peter?” He asked. James shrugged.

“Dunno. He was on my back at one point, but then - hmm,” he reached into his pocket and pulled out the map, which Remus had handed over to him up in the dormitory. Sirius had tried and failed not to be annoyed that it hadn’t been given to him; but then, he and Remus were barely talking at all now. 

“Peter, Peter … oh, look. There. He’s back at the Willow. Christ, this thing is amazing.” 

“Oops,” said Sirius, not really feeling particularly guilty about it. “Ah well. He can keep watch.” 

“Hang on - look at this,” James said, frowning. “ _Lumos.”_ He ignited the tip of his wand and pointed at something in the corner of the parchment. Sirius leaned over and saw three sets of footsteps, three names in Remus’s handwriting; _Bellatrix Black_ , _Rodolphus Lestrange, Edmund Mulciber_.

“What time is it?” said Sirius, and James looked at his watch. 

“Gone midnight. What fresh hell is this?”

Sirius narrowed his eyes as he watched them make their way up from the dungeons and down the corridor; they stopped outside the kitchens, as if they were discussing something, and then abruptly went inside. 

“They’re in … they’re in the kitchens,” Sirius said, confused. He stared at the map for a second and then came to a decision. “Come on. Let’s go and break up the midnight feast.” 

They transformed to travel back through the forest as quickly as possible, then slipped under the cloak as they half-jogged up past the Whomping Willow; Sirius thought he could see the shadow of a rat scrabbling around by the tunnel mouth, but they didn’t stop to chat. When they reached the entrance to the kitchens, James pulled out the map again and swore under his breath. 

“They’re gone,” he said, frowning. “They’re not in there - and they’re not back in the dungeons. I can’t see them anywhere around here.”  
  
“Let’s ask the house-elves,” Sirius said, and they took off the cloak and went inside.

The house-elves seemed to be working quite hard considering that it was the middle of the night; in one corner of the room they were already rolling out dough into thick, floury rolls for breakfast, and Sirius felt immediately starving at the sight. Despite the routine bustle there was a strange, tense sort of atmosphere; all the house-elves looked up at them as one when they walked in, but then immediately went back to their tasks. The fact that nobody came running over to offer them a scone or a cup of hot milk to help them sleep was suspicious enough on its own. 

“Er - hi,” James said awkwardly to the room at large. “Did - did anybody see some students in here just now?” 

Silence. Sirius had never known house-elves to be so thoroughly unhelpful.

“Oi,” he said, a little more forcefully than James. “We know that some Slytherins were creeping around in here just now. What did they want?” 

An elderly-looking house-elf broke off from the group and came reluctantly over to them.

“Can I help you, Master Black?” 

“I know you heard me before,” Sirius said irritably, ignoring the warning look James threw in his direction. “Answer the question.” 

“We are not able to divulge the particulars of - well. We serve _all_ the students of Hogwarts, Master Black.”  
  
“So they weren’t just here to grab a snack, then?” Sirius said, crossing his arms. “Can you-”  
  
“We have reason to believe,” James interrupted, “that they might be up to something cagey. Something that could - harm the school, and the people in it. So can you please tell us what they wanted?” 

The house-elf seemed to be struggling with something; he bit his lip, and eventually shook his head.

“I’m sorry, Master Potter. I can’t say.” 

“Do you know anything about secret passageways?” Sirius asked suddenly. “You lot must know quite a bit about this castle, more than any student. Can you tell us anything?” 

The house-elf thought for a moment and then said slowly, “There are many ways for a house-elf to get in and out of the castle.”

“That’s not really an answer, is it,” Sirius said, hearing the frustration in his tone but not bothering to hold back. “If you’re meant to serve _all_ the students of Hogwarts, just-”

“ _Shit,_ ” James said suddenly, sounding genuinely horrified; Sirius turned to look at him and saw that he was looking down at the map again. 

“What? Prongs?” The house-elf took the opportunity to slip away and go back to his post, but Sirius barely noticed; James was looking ashen.

“Um. We have a more pressing problem,” he said, showing Sirius the map. “Moony is on the move.”


	15. AWOL

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Listen I'm sorry that this is All Plot and No Kissing but sometimes ... there has to be a plot. The song for this chapter is Run Boy Run by Woodkid. (Also I just realised I'm about to hit 200 comments. Thank you???)

A rat. He could smell a rat. Fear, and fur, and little paws slick with sweat. The ground was scuffed where he’d been, little divots in the dirt, but he was gone. No matter; there was other prey on his mind. Lights glowing up ahead, small movements he could sense even from here; something sat by a window, the smell of paper burning almost obscuring the smell of it; something else walked high above, patrolling, watching. Something shuffled in the dark, hugging close to the tall walls. Many somethings, breathing and thinking and living, just out of reach. Any of them would do. 

Close to the ground, his back flat with intent, he shook off the pain of getting out - the blood on his paws, the sting of splinters that jolted up his legs every time he took a step - pushed it away to a corner of his mind that dealt with such things and focused on the here and now. Dirt. Tracks. Distant pulses, calling steadily to him across the night. 

_No_. Where had it come from? Impossible to tell, but there it was: _No_. An order. He whimpered, took a step back, then forward again; it was gone, the voice, so he surged forward up the hill. Paws pounding. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Not important. 

_Stay away_. He stopped again, pulled up so suddenly that he skidded on the frozen ground. Whined. Clawed at his muzzle, trying to get rid of whatever it was; to carve it from his head. More pain. Blood trickling into his eyes, hot and stinging. Indecision tearing him in half. He had to hunt. He couldn’t hunt. He had to move. He couldn’t move. 

The wind shifted direction, and the sharp scent of something else hit him; animal. Canine. Dog. It howled, calling to him; he threw one last look at the glowing lights, his pupils contracting. The dog howled again, closer, in the opposite direction. 

He made his decision. 

*

“Fucking fuck, fuck, _fuck_ ,” Sirius said desperately as they ran to the entrance hall. James threw up an arm to stop him. 

“He’s right by the Willow. He’s right there. You can’t go out there.” 

“Fuck,” said Sirius, so terrified he could barely see. “ _Fuck_.” 

“I’m going for McGonagall,” James said. “I have to, Sirius. I have to.” 

“Give me one - just let me try, as Padfoot,” Sirius said, his hands in his hair. “Keep watch, with the map - give me ten minutes to get him away from school.” 

“Okay,” James said, a slight shake in his voice. “Ten minutes, Sirius.” Sirius transformed. As he leapt out of the doorway, he heard James behind him. “Don’t fucking die, Pads. Don’t do it.” 

He didn’t need the map now; he could smell Remus, still standing by the tree, getting his bearings. He ran in a wide semi-circle, didn’t stop until he was about halfway between the castle and the forest, then threw his head back and howled. 

Nothing. His hackles were up, every instinct telling him to get as far away from Remus as possible, but he couldn’t; he had to get closer. He crept forward, eyes fixed on the distant, shadowy outline of the Willow. He howled again. 

There was a pause, and then he heard the sound of enormous paws hitting the ground. As soon as they struck, he ran. 

He’d never been properly hunted before. Had never had to run knowing that if he wasn’t fast enough, he’d most probably be dead within minutes. The adrenaline was unbelievable. Remus must have been faster than him, but Padfoot had a head start, and he pressed every advantage; he still had a human mind, and Remus was all wolf. When he reached the forest he dared a look back over his shoulders; yellow eyes flashed back at him, much too close. He wasn’t going to outrun Remus. He had to outthink him. It came to him instantly; he didn’t have to be a boy. He had to be a _dog._ He leapt wildly up onto a knot of roots, clawed his way up to higher ground, elevating himself off the forest floor to buy himself a few seconds; Remus reached him and prepared to spring, hunching his shoulders. 

Padfoot sent up a silent prayer to whoever happened to be listening and flopped dramatically onto his back. When Remus leapt up to meet him, the werewolf growled deep in his throat, but then paused. Sniffed. Seemed to be trying to work something out. 

Padfoot gave a low, submissive whine. Flattened his ears. Exposed his throat. Stayed as still as possible, waiting. 

After an excruciating amount of time, he felt Remus’s breath on his face and looked up into the enormous head of the werewolf. Remus was bleeding, he realised; great gashes on his forehead, rivulets of blood cutting lines through his thick fur; he braced himself for the killing blow, but it didn’t come. Remus nudged Padfoot’s muzzle with his own, sniffed at him in an agitated sort of way, but then backed away. He leapt down, made to run, but paused. Padfoot understood; he was meant to follow. So he did. 

They ran through the forest, Remus faster but a little less agile, whimpering when his paws hit the ground, Padfoot always keeping head and shoulders behind him; he was tensed every second for Remus to turn and run back to the castle, for a fight he knew he wouldn’t win, but Remus seemed content to have company. To be running in a pack of two for once. They followed the scent of something strange, something equine that Padfoot thought must have been a unicorn, until Remus was distracted by a different smell; horse again, and man. _Centaur_. If they actually ran into a herd of centaurs they’d be done for, but Remus didn’t seem to be focusing on anything in particular for too long; he kept turning and snapping joyfully in Padfoot’s direction. 

At one point, they actually _played_ ; Padfoot was careful to stay low to the ground, not to make any sudden movements; but Remus stayed loose and happy despite his injuries, pawed gently at him, pinned him to the ground but then let him go a few seconds later. Padfoot wanted to laugh at how ridiculous it was - how _easy_ \- they could have been doing this all along, and Remus would have been happy, and not clawing chunks out of himself every full moon alone in that shack-

Remus had caught a scent. Padfoot tried to find it too, put his head down where Remus had just been, but couldn’t catch it - only the faintest whiffs of something. He knew that Remus’s senses were keener than his, tried to distract Remus again with play in case whatever he was smelling was something they really shouldn’t cross; he bounded backwards, trying to draw Remus out, but in that moment Remus suddenly took off at speed. Sirius had hesitated too long. He couldn’t keep up this time; he heard the enormous paws pounding the dirt up ahead fade away, and then disappear. He tried to keep tracking his scent, to follow him, but it criss-crossed with so many other strange new smells that it was impossible.

 _Shit_ , he thought, turning in a circle uselessly and then sitting down. He needed the map; he could only hope that James wasn’t too far away. He sat in the dark, listening to the strange sounds of the forest, wondering if he’d ever been so deep in it before; wondering vaguely if anything nearby might be partial to eating scruffy, black dogs.

He didn’t have to wait long for James. The sound of hooves became the sound of footsteps and then he was there, Peter close behind him. Sirius transformed, mostly to regain the power of shouting.

“What the _hell_ happened, Peter?” 

“It’s not - the tree couldn’t hold him,” Peter said, looking at James for support. “I think he damaged it last time, and got the idea in his head somewhere that he could make it back through, and he just - he just kept throwing himself at it until he got out.I don’t know what you expect _me_ to do, I’m a rat, I can’t - I can’t fight him!” 

“Why didn’t you come and get us?” Sirius said angrily, unable to find a flaw in Peter’s logic but still needing to shout anyway. 

“I didn’t know where you’d gone!” Peter squeaked indignantly. “I didn’t have the map! I didn’t have anything! You just ran off without me so I stayed by the tree to keep watch and-”  
  
“It’s okay Peter,” James said, patting him on the shoulder and glaring at Sirius. “It’s not your fault.” 

“Where is he now?” Sirius asked, reaching for the map. He knew James was right, it _wasn’t_ Peter’s fault, but he was feeling a lot of things right now and needed to direct them _somewhere_ ; Peter was the obvious target. “Look, he’s not gone back to school, thank fuck - he’s so deep in the forest, though, he’s deeper than we’ve ever been. Christ knows what he might find in there.” 

“It’s nearly dawn,” James said, squinting up at the sky through the thick canopy of leaves. “Let’s go find him. Let’s go find him and bring him back.” 

This didn’t warrant further discussion; they all transformed, Wormtail hopping up onto Prongs’s neck as usual and clinging on for dear life as they sped through the forest. _Don’t be dead, you big horrible idiot_ , Padfoot thought over and over again as they ran. _Don’t fight something bigger than you, don’t piss off the centaurs, don’t be dead_. 

When they did find him, the sky was already a pinkish-grey, morning light filtering through the trees. He was human again, and looked so small curled up on the ground at the base of an enormous tree trunk that Sirius immediately thought he must be dead. Nothing could be that slight and fragile in a forest like this and come out of it alive.

“Is he- he’s not-” They all ran to him, dropped to their knees beside him, and when Sirius saw the regular rise and fall of his chest he wanted to cry with relief. 

“Pads,” James said apprehensively. “His face.” The wounds that Sirius had caught glimpses of in the moonlight looked so much worse now that Remus was human; a huge cut from eyebrow to cheekbone, just sparing his eye, and another on his jawline. “Shit, and his _hands._ ” They were bloody, curled up into claws; Sirius could see splinters the size of matches buried deep in the pads of his fingers. 

“We need to - can you do anything about the bleeding?” Sirius said to the others. He knew they couldn’t, because _he_ couldn’t, and he was just as competent as James, and _miles_ better than Peter. The only person who might have known what to do was Remus, and he was unconscious. “Should we try to wake him up?”  
  
“You shouldn’t wake up somebody unconscious,” Peter said. “It can be really dangerous, they get all confused and then they-”  
  
“That’s _sleepwalking_ , you berk,” Sirius said dismissively. “What if he’s concussed or something? What if going to sleep means he’s going to die-”  
  
“Who’s going to die?” said Remus faintly, and Sirius swore loudly with relief. 

“Nobody,” said James, grabbing his arm and giving it an affectionate squeeze. “Nobody’s going to die, especially not you, and you’ll live to a grand old age and have lots of puppies-”  
  
“Ugh,” Remus said, trying to sit up, his face contorting with the pain. “My head hurts like - oh my God, my _hands._ Do I still have hands?”  
  
“Sort of,” said Peter. James hit him lightly to get him to shut up. 

“You still have hands,” Sirius said. “You’ve got quite a lot of splinters in them though Moony, do you want me to try to get them out? Or - the hospital wing?”  
  
“James can do it,” Remus said, letting his head fall back against the dirt. Sirius tried not to look hurt by this, busied himself by conjuring a grubby handful of water and offering it to Remus, who ignored him. Sirius let the water trickle through his fingers and soak the ground beneath them. Every time James managed to pull out another splinter, Remus tensed and swore, and Sirius wanted to reach for his shoulder, put an arm around him, do _something_ \- but Remus didn’t want him. He’d made that abundantly clear. So he stayed where he was, feeling completely and utterly useless. 

“We need Essence of Dittany,” Peter said when all the splinters were out. “For the bleeding. For your hands, and for your - well, for your face.” 

“What’s wrong with my face?” Remus said. 

“Nothing’s wrong with your face,” Sirius said fiercely. “You’ve got - just a couple of scratches, Remus, just a couple of war wounds, but it’ll be okay.” 

“Except you just called me _Remus_ , so it’s obviously not okay.”  
  
“I call you Remus all the time. Shut up, Moony. It’s fine. You’re going to be fine.” He didn’t look fine - the cuts on his face were still bleeding, and Sirius reached up to wipe some of the blood away, feeling Remus flinch under his fingers. “Where did you go? I was with you, and then you caught a scent and you just went off like a shot.” 

“I don’t - wait,” Remus said, frowning. “Let me try to remember.” They all sat in silence, looking down at him - if anybody had found them here in the forest right now they would have looked like they were performing some kind of satanic ritual, the three of them crouched around his prone body, Remus’s eyes squeezed tightly shut. 

“Maybe we should-”  
  
“Be quiet, Peter, please,” Remus opened his eyes again. “So - we were in the forest - we were _playing._ Is that right? That doesn't sound right.”  
  
“Yeah,” said Sirius, smiling despite himself. “Yeah, we were.”  
  
“Okay - so we were messing about, but then there was something - I could smell something. Something that shouldn’t have been here. And I followed it, and I ended up-” He sat up shakily and looked around. “There was a cave. No, not a cave - a _tunnel_.” 

“A secret passage?” Sirius said excitedly. “Where?” 

“It’s under the roots of that massive tree. It’s like the one under the Willow, but I don’t know where it ends up. I wouldn’t,” he said quickly as Sirius got to his feet, intending to go and look. “I really wouldn’t go in there. There was - something had died in there. That’s what I could smell. It was rotting, but it was - wait, I nearly had it.” He closed his eyes again, focusing. Sirius could almost see him reaching for the memory. 

“It was a house-elf,” Remus said finally. “A house-elf died in that tunnel. I think that’s who visited us in the forest that night. There was a lot of blood. It’s mostly gone now, but I followed an old trail of it inside - it must have been attacked and then crawled in there. To die.”

This was met with stunned silence. Sirius sat back down on the ground and looked around at all of them.

“Okay,” he said. “So what the fuck was a house-elf doing in the middle of the Forbidden Forest? And more to the point, who the fuck would want to kill a fucking _house-elf?_ ” 


	16. Apparition for Beginners

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Good morning! It's angst time! More MUNA today because MUNA is the soundtrack to everything important in life. The song is called If U Love Me Now.

“I’m afraid that’s the best I can do,” Madam Pomfrey said, wiping off the thick, purple-ish liquid that she’d spread liberally over Remus’s face. He winced, still feeling the pain of the wounds on his face even if they weren’t bleeding any more; his skin felt red-raw, and strangely tight. Normal facial expressions were a struggle. “Keep your face as still as you can, Mr Lupin.” 

She’d managed to fix up his hands completely, but then, they’d only been up against a tree trunk; his face had been clawed at by a werewolf, and as the assortment of scars criss-crossing the rest of his body could attest to, those sorts of wounds never really healed. 

“Do you want a mirror?” Peter said helpfully. They were all gathered around his bed in the hospital wing; Remus was embarrassed to be in a bed at all, and insisted on sitting upright rather than lying down as Madam Pomfrey kept demanding he should be. A curtain had been pulled around the bed for privacy, and the healer disappeared behind it now, called to assist a first-year with a stomach upset at the other end of the ward. 

“Don’t give him a mirror _now_ ,” James said, as Peter looked around for one. “I reckon it’ll get better, you know, Moony. Probably just needs a bit of time to … settle.” 

They were all looking at him apprehensively. It was unbearable. He just wanted to go to sleep and never have to look at another person again. Or, more importantly, be looked _at_. 

“I think I’ll have a nap,” he said, closing his eyes. He heard awkward shuffling, the sound of the curtain ring dragging on the rail as they exited, and then silence. When he opened his eyes again, Sirius was still sitting at the end of his bed, looking at the floor with grim determination. “Bit hard to sleep with you sitting there looking like your head’s about to fall off,” Remus said, attempting a jovial tone and only achieving a slightly irritated one. 

“Hey,” Sirius said, looking up at him. “Do you remember when I said we weren’t going to do the angst and pining thing? Because Remus, honestly, what the fuck.” 

“Do we have to talk about this now?” Remus said, staring up at the vaulted ceiling and wishing Madam Pomfrey had given him something to knock him out. 

“Yes,” said Sirius irritably. “Well … no, okay, I guess we don’t. I know you’re tired. I know - listen, I just don’t want to be walking around trying not to accidentally bump into you or reach for the fucking butter at the same time as you at breakfast in case our hands touch and you look at me like you want to put a hit out on me. It’s _infuriating_. That’s all.” 

“Oh. That’s all, is it?” 

“Actually, _no_ , it’s not. What happened? Did you get some kind of brain transplant between New Year’s and the second of January? Did James accidentally obliviate you the second he walked back into the dormitory?” 

“Could you not shout right now,” Remus said, wincing. “I have a headache.”  
  
“I’m not shouting,” Sirius said, still a little too loudly. “Remus. What the _fuck_.” 

“I’m not the one,” Remus said slowly, “kissing Marlene McKinnon in the middle of the common room the second she got back. Am I? So whatever high horse you’re on, you can hop off now.” Sirius stood up as if to leave, but then came and sat down in the chair right next to his head.

“You literally wouldn’t look at me,” He said quietly. “You wouldn’t let me _anywhere near you_. You acted like I had the plague or something.” 

Remus was too tired for this. Too tired to untangle the messy web of feelings, the whys and wherefores, all the reasons he had wanted to keep Sirius at arm’s length when term started up again. It all boiled down to this; if he kept his distance, then Sirius couldn’t hurt him. If he bolted first, Sirius couldn’t run off chasing the next distraction and leave him standing there alone like an idiot, wondering what he’d done wrong. But he’d kept his distance, and managed to get hurt anyway. Of course. Fantastic. 

“It was a bad idea,” Remus said honestly. “We were basically drunk the whole time.” That one wasn’t quite true, but there _had_ been a lot of Baileys involved. “It didn’t mean anything. It was just - you know. Christmas.” 

“Remus Lupin, you fucking liar,” Sirius said, glaring down at him. His hair was a mess, full of mud and dead leaves. There was a smear of blood on his cheek. _His_ blood, Remus realised. Without thinking about what he was doing, he reached up to wipe it away. 

As soon as Remus’s fingers touched his skin, Sirius leaned down and kissed him, fierce and insistent at first but then softly, as if his brain had suddenly kicked in and reminded him that Remus was hurt. It _did_ hurt, but it helped somehow, too; Remus tried not to move his face and risk pulling at the scars. He just closed his eyes and let himself be kissed, so that he could live for a few seconds in a world where Sirius Black could kiss him and everything could be okay. 

“Right,” said Madam Pomfrey, pulling back the curtain. Sirius leapt away from him like he’d been burned. “Ah. _Right_ ,” Madam Pomfrey said again, slowly this time, looking between them. “I think it’s probably time you were going, Mr Black.” Sirius scarpered without another word.

“You know,” Madam Pomfrey said disapprovingly, “I did specifically tell you to keep your face _still_.” Remus just closed his eyes, wondering if the increased blood flow thanks to his horrified blushing would help or hinder the healing process. 

*

Remus got to stay in the hospital wing for two days. Peter and James visited, bringing cauldron cakes and stacks of chocolate, but Sirius stayed well away. When he went back to lessons, he decided to tell everybody that he’d had a run-in with the Whomping Willow. It wasn’t exactly a _lie_ \- the Willow had been part of it - and everybody he told immediately made expressions of sympathy or sucked air through their teeth in a way that conveyed their instant pain at the very thought of it. At least three people said “That _fucking_ tree.” It was nice to have everyone on his side. They’d probably have handed him over to the Ministry themselves if they knew the truth.

“Why were you mucking about by the Whomping Willow?” Lily said, narrowing her eyes at him when he repeated the excuse outside Arithmancy. “You’re not that stupid. James, yes. Sirius, in a heartbeat. But you?” 

“Er - momentary lapse in judgement,” Remus said. “Speaking of, did I see you actually talking to James again in the common room the other day?” 

“God,” Lily said miserably. “If you saw it too then there’s no way it was all a stress-induced nightmare.” 

“He’s a good person, you know,” Remus said, laughing at the expression on her face as he said it and then wincing as pain shot across his brow bone. “I’m serious. A wanker, yes. But he’s got a good heart in there somewhere.” 

“He’s got a complex,” Lily said. “He laughs at all his own jokes, like he’s just so completely _delighted_ with himself, and wastes all his time on pranks and messing around when he’s actually got - well, he’s not as stupid as he likes everyone to believe.” 

“You like him,” Remus said. 

“Yeah _right_ ,” Lily scoffed. “And you had a ‘run-in with the Whomping Willow’.” 

They had their first Apparition lesson later that day. It was raining, so they all filed into the Great Hall with the rest of the year to hear an extremely elderly Ministry wizard explain the basics. 

“Does anybody know,” he said in a quavering voice, “What the three Ds of Apparition are?” 

“Danger?” Peter suggested. 

“That’s my middle name,” Sirius muttered, and James snorted. 

“Come on, now. The three Ds,” the Ministry wizard said encouragingly. 

“Dickhead?” said James. 

“That’s _your_ middle name,” Sirius stage-whispered. 

“Can you all shut the fuck up for two seconds so we don’t end up Apparating ourselves in half?” Remus said irritably. 

The instructor finally gave them the three Ds, and asked them to spread out around the hall so that they could practice them. “Find a partner, or a small group,” he called as they dispersed; the four of them instinctively walked off together, although Remus saw James throw a longing look in Lily’s direction. 

“Don’t you think it’s odd,” James said quietly when they were some distance away from everybody else, “That nobody’s noticed a missing house-elf?” 

“No,” said Remus shortly. “They’re basically second-class citizens, aren’t they? Like werewolves. They don’t really have rights. ”

“Would anything that lives in the forest kill a house-elf?” Peter asked nervously.

“Maybe? But a house-elf never would have been there of its own accord in the first place,” Remus said. “They just do what they’re told. It makes sense that nobody’s raised the alarm, though. Who’s going to notice one less house-elf in the kitchens, apart from the other house-elves?”  
  
“Dumbledore?” Sirius suggested.

“Dumbledore’s never here,” Remus said dismissively. “You’d think the house-elves would have said something, though. Told McGonagall.” 

“Unless they’re afraid of something,” James said. “Unless they’ve been threatened, or told to keep quiet.” 

“Well, I’m going to tell her,” Remus said. He’d been thinking about it for the last two days as he lay in the hospital wing; Madam Pomfrey had believed him when he said he’d just had a bad night in the Shack, but if he told Professor McGonagall what he knew then he’d have to reveal that he’d ended up in the depths of the forest. She’d have to find out that a) he was a werewolf, and b) he’d been a risk to the other students, and that would be the end of it. He couldn’t just _ignore_ it all, though; he’d tell her about the house-elf, and the Slytherins, and take whatever came next. Besides, he _was_ a danger to the other students here. He’d selfishly tried to pretend that it didn’t matter, that it could be managed, that Dumbledore wouldn’t have let him start at school if it weren’t basically risk-free, but he didn’t have the energy to ignore what was right in front of him any more. He’d escaped the Shack. He was no longer safe to be around. If they expelled him, they expelled him; they’d all probably be better off for it in the long run. _Except me_ , Remus thought, but he shook it off; selfish, again. 

“You’re not going to fucking tell her,” Sirius said heatedly. “This whole martyr bit is really getting old, Remus.” 

“I’m not being a _martyr_ , I’m - someone _died_ , Sirius. The teachers need to know. And since I can get out of the Willow now, the death toll’s going to get a lot higher very quickly. I know you’re happy to just ignore it so that we can all carry on having a jolly time and pissing about, but I actually think we should take this seriously-”

“If you tell her,” Sirius said warningly, “I’ll tell her about Padfoot.”

“You’ll get expelled.”  
  
“Exactly. And James will tell her about Prongs, won’t you James? And Peter will confess too.” 

“Yeah,” James said. “So don’t even fucking think about it.” 

“ _Listen_ to yourselves. This isn’t a game, this is-” 

“Now,” the Ministry wizard said, his voice magically amplified. “I hope you’ve all been practicing. It’s very important that you keep destination, determination and deliberation in the front of your mind when you Apparate. Complete concentration is required, or you risk a good Splinching - I don’t think I have to tell you what a bad idea _that_ would be. We don’t want to re-attach any limbs today,” he chuckled to himself, then cleared his throat and continued. “We have lifted the restrictions on Apparition within Hogwarts grounds for the next hour, but don’t worry - you won’t be able to Apparate outside the school, and nobody can Apparate in. When you are ready, keep the three Ds in your mind and attempt to Apparate a few feet to your left. Don’t rush, don’t panic, and whatever you do, don’t try to Apparate back onto the exact spot you’re already standing in - unless you fancy tearing a hole in the fabric of the universe.” He laughed again. Nobody else joined him. 

“Blimey. Casual,” said James, trying to lighten the mood. 

“Line up in the middle of the hall, everybody,” said the instructor. “You all need to go left, to make sure you don’t end up crashing into each other. Does everybody know which one is left? Very good, very good.” 

Remus got in line behind James. He could feel Sirius’s eyes boring into the back of his head, but didn’t turn around.

“If you hand yourself in to McGonagall I’ll never forgive you,” Sirius hissed. “I mean it, Remus. Don’t be a dick.” 

“Oh, yeah. _I’m_ the one being a dick,” Remus said quietly, turning his head so that his voice would carry but not meeting Sirius’s eye. “I’m so fucking sick of your casual attitude to literally everything. You can’t just float along like nothing affects you, and like - like nothing matters. You can’t just brush off dead bodies in the Forbidden Forest and a bloody _werewolf_ running around the grounds at night looking for somebody to mutilate because it’s not _fun_ , and it’s not a _laugh_. You’re seventeen. Act like a fucking adult for once in your life.” 

“On the count of three,” said the Ministry wizard. 

“Fuck you,” Sirius said quietly from behind him, his voice loaded with malice. “Get expelled, then. I’m sick of looking at you.” 

Remus’s jaw tightened, the scars on his face contracting painfully as he clenched his teeth. He could feel angry tears burning in his eyes, but he blinked them away. 

“Three,” said the instructor. “Two.” 

The three Ds had flown right out of his head. He was meant to be focusing on something, but he couldn’t remember what. Destination. Determination? _Why_ didn’t Sirius care about what they’d found in the forest? Why were the others so willing to be so careless with everything - their lives, other people’s lives - and dress it up as some sort of adventurous, boyish camaraderie? They were a brotherhood of idiots, in way over their heads. It was bullshit. It was all bullshit. 

“One!” 

Remus pushed out with his mind, and then felt as if his entire body was collapsing in on himself. 

When he came back into himself, he wasn’t in the Great Hall anymore. He was lying on the ground in the Forbidden Forest, a few feet away from where he’d found the remains of the house-elf. And he was surrounded by a herd of enormous, very angry-looking Centaurs. 

“Oh,” he said, getting up, trying very hard not to be sick. “Hello.” 

“You are not welcome here,” said the Centaur standing closest to him in a slow, deep voice. He had long, tangled black hair and a gleaming ebony coat.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t - I didn’t come on purpose,” Remus said, stumbling a little as he tried to back away. “I’ll go.” 

“You are the one who brought danger to the forest,” another Centaur said. They were all frowning at him. It didn’t feel like a great sign. “You came at the full moon. You will come again. We cannot allow this.” He was larger and seemed much older than the black-haired Centaur. 

“We do not interfere in the ways of wizards,” the first Centaur said, seeming to argue with the other. 

“This is not just a wizard,” came the reply. “It is not part of the natural order, Bane. And it is not for you to decide.” 

“I really don’t want any trouble,” Remus said, raising his hands in the universal signal of surrender. “I’m just going to go back to the castle. I won’t bother you again.” 

“You may not do it with intent,” the larger Centaur said gravely. “But you cannot know for sure. The man makes promises that the wolf cannot keep.” 

“Well - er - what’s the alternative?” Remus said nervously. 

“We will deliberate,” the Centaur replied. “You will come with us until we reach our verdict.” 

“A trial?” said Bane. 

“Yes. A trial.” 

_This is what happens when you don’t pay attention in lessons_ , Remus thought bitterly as they gestured for him to walk with them deeper into the forest. _A bunch of fucking Centaurs put you under arrest._


	17. The Trial

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's the freakin' weekend, time to ... have a trial? Today's song is Woods by Bon Iver.

Sirius had Splinched himself quite spectacularly. He’d have thought that losing all the skin on the outside of his left arm would have been enough to garner some sympathy, but James just kept laughing at him. 

“It’s not funny,” he said through gritted teeth as Madam Pomfrey sighed and tutted and applied a skin-regrowing solution. 

“I know, I know,” James said, patting him consolingly on the shoulder. “It was just when you - when you really sincerely said ‘well, that was easy’ - and then you turned around and-” He started laughing again. Sirius wanted to hit him, but needed to concentrate on not passing out as the pain started to recede and new skin began to form on his arm; it was _unbearably_ itchy. 

“Why is it _always_ one of you?” Madam Pomfrey said disapprovingly as she finished up. “If you keep marauding around the castle like idiots you won’t make it to graduation.” 

“But think of all the precious time we get to spend together,” Sirius said, screwing his eyes tightly shut as the unpleasant, itchy feeling crawled rapidly across his arm. “You wouldn’t give that up for the world, would you Madam Pomfrey?” 

“I have many answers to that,” she said grimly, “But you’re not worth the loss of my employment, so I’ll keep them to myself.” 

“She loves us,” Sirius said to James as she walked away. 

“She thinks we _maraud,”_ said James happily. “I like that.” 

Peter came rushing down the hospital wing towards them, looking very red in the face. “They can’t find him,” he said, skidding to a stop at the end of Sirius’s bed. 

“What?” 

“Remus. They thought he’d just have overshot by a few feet, that he’d be in the next room, but he’s just - gone.” 

“ _Shit_ ,” James said, glancing over at Sirius, who just scowled in response. 

“They said they’re looking for him now, but I thought - as we have the map-” 

“Have you noticed,” James said, rummaging in his bag, “That we spent a ridiculous amount of time running around after him lately?” 

“Occupational hazard of hanging out with a werewolf,” Sirius said in a low voice, risking a glance at his arm. The skin was red-raw, but at least there _was_ skin. “Where the hell could he be? You don’t think he’s hurt, do you? Maybe he got Splinched too. Fucking idiot.” 

“Damn it, I don’t have the map,” James said. “Remus took it back from me. I think he left it in the dormitory - I’ll meet you down by the entrance hall.” 

“Can you grab my bag, Wormtail?” Sirius asked, getting to his feet. “Arm’s still buggered.” Peter sighed, but did as he was asked. They managed to get out of the hospital wing without Madam Pomfrey noticing - Sirius wasn’t the only person who’d managed to Splinch himself in Apparition class - and then sat by the main doors, waiting for James. 

“You and Remus don’t like each other very much lately,” Peter observed. Sirius turned to give him a very disparaging look. 

“Of course we like each other. We’re friends.” 

“You really seem to _hate_ each other sometimes,” Peter said cheerfully. 

“It’s complicated, Peter.”  
  
“Oh, of course,” he replied, looking down at his hands. There was a pause, and then he said, “ _How_ is it complicated?” 

“You’ll understand when you’re older,” Sirius said, spotting James coming down the stairs towards them. 

“Got it,” he said when he reached them. “And look. He’s in the bloody forest _again_.” 

‘He Apparated all the way to the forest?” said Peter, his eyes wide.

“Let’s just hope all of him made it there,” James said grimly, as he stuffed the map back in his pocket and they all headed off through the front doors to find him.

*

The Centaurs had asked Remus to sit at the edge of a clearing while they deliberated. They didn’t attempt to physically restrain him in any way, but he felt it would be rude and potentially disastrous to try to leave, so he simply sat down on a tree stump and waited. One rather young-looking Centaur with long, blonde hair pulled back into a braid had been sent to guard him; after ten minutes of silence, Remus attempted some small talk. 

“So - er - do you have a lot of these sorts of things? Trials?” The Centaur turned to look at him, a look of polite bemusement on his face.

“No,” he said eventually. “We deliberate on many things. But we very rarely choose to act, or interfere.” 

“Well. I s’pose it’s nice to be special,” Remus said, with an attempt at bravado. The Centaur didn’t smile, but he did give a little nod of acknowledgement. An idea suddenly struck Remus; he glanced over at the other Centaurs, who were talking quietly, and then lowered his voice. “You must see a lot of what happens in this forest, I’d imagine?” 

“We see all.” 

“Right. Yes. Of course,” Remus deliberated for a second, and then decided to throw caution to the wind. “Did you happen to see - when I was here at full moon, I came across a tunnel. Inside, I found … well, a body. A house-elf’s body. Do you know how it got there?” 

The Centaur frowned at him. “I do not think it wise for you to follow that thread.” 

“The thing is,” Remus said apologetically, “I sort of can’t help it. It’s important. I want to find out who did it, and why. I think it might be connected to - well. I want to stop them from doing anything like that again.” 

The Centaur said nothing.

“Was it a creature in the forest? Or a human - a student?”

“Do you study the stars?” The Centaur said suddenly. 

“Er. I took Astronomy, if that’s what you mean. I don’t any more.”  
  
“What about the ancient art of Divination?” 

“No, I don’t - I didn’t choose it. Didn’t much fancy being told there were wolves in my tea leaves,” Remus said with a grimace. “Plus I thought - well, I worried I might get found out. Not many people at the school know … what I am.”  
  
“You would be cast out?” 

“Yes. Yeah. I would. It’s like your friend said. I’m not just a wizard. And they’d judge me on the other half. Sorry - you were asking me about Divination.” 

The Centaur studied him for a long moment. “The world is at war,” he said gravely. “We have watched the stars for a long time, and we knew it was coming; even now, I suspect your kind do not realise it has begun.” 

“Do you mean - are you talking about Voldemort? I know about that. I know - he’s been attacking Muggle-borns. Gathering a following. I think some people in the castle might be trying to help him.” 

“And you are not.”  
  
“ _Fuck_ no. Sorry. I mean - no, I’m not. I never would.” 

Silence again as the Centaur seemed to consider him. It lasted so long that Remus almost spoke again, but instinct told him not to. 

“Two of your kind came into the forest three moons ago. They brought with them an elf, who came willingly. They quarrelled with him. One of the students used a spell,” his face twisted in distaste. “I do not know its name. The house-elf was grievously injured.” 

“What did they look like?” Remus said breathlessly. “The students?” 

“One was tall. She had long hair, and a very disturbing aura. The other was … not so tall. He cast the spell.” Remus could think of no better person to describe as having a ‘very disturbing aura’ than Bellatrix Black. 

“They didn’t take the house-elf to the tunnel, then?” 

“No,” said the Centaur. “The elf made that journey alone, once they had fled.”  
  
“So you just let the house-elf die?” Remus said incredulously. “You just watched it bleed all through the forest and then - just die by itself, in pain?”  
  
“We do not interfere,” the Centaur said, and Remus snorted derisively despite himself. Kidnapping him and frog-marching him to a trial felt rather a lot like interfering to him. 

“Why would a student kill a house-elf?”

“That is not the question you should be asking,” said the Centaur.

“Well, what’s the question I should be asking, then?”  
  
The Centaur narrowed his eyes at Remus - and then, to his surprise, let out a short laugh. “Ah. That’s not it either.” 

*

 _If he’s dead I’m going to kill him,_ Padfoot thought wildly as they ran through the trees. _If he’s dead I’m going to punch him in his stupid, dead face._ The Forbidden Forest was less intimidating in the daylight - almost peaceful, except of course for the dog and stag dashing through at break-neck speed, running as if they were being hunted by something unseen. 

They stopped to check the map, Sirius and James out of breath and soaked with sweat despite the cold, Peter just a little pink in the cheeks.

“He’s in the exact same place he was,” James said, pointing. “He hasn’t gone anywhere.”  
  
“Why the fuck isn’t he _moving?_ ” Sirius said furiously. 

“Don’t ask _me_ , I know as much as you do. So - fuck all.”  
  
“I don’t suppose,” Peter said quietly, “I don’t suppose - he wouldn’t still be on the map if he were dead. Would he?” 

“Shut up Peter,” Sirius said, his voice shaking. “Don’t fucking say that.” 

“I don’t know how it works,” James said, frowning. “I don’t know if he’d still be there or not.” 

“He’s _not dead,_ ” Sirius said. “Can we go and get him now and stop standing around planning his fucking funeral?” 

Peter transformed and hopped up onto James’s shoulder. James just stood there, looking at him. 

“Hey,” he said. “It’s going to be okay, Pads.” 

Sirius didn’t reply. He was already a dog again. 

*

Remus was starting to wonder if the Centaurs would go so far as to actually kill him. Their only other option was to send him back up to the castle - they could hardly keep him imprisoned here indefinitely, knowing that full moon would come again as it did with annoying regularity - and they didn’t seem particularly inclined to do _that_ , either. 

Surely, he reasoned to himself, Dumbledore wouldn’t allow Centaurs to run free in the forest if they were at risk of actually _killing_ one of the students of Hogwarts - but then, Dumbledore had allowed a werewolf into his school. Dumbledore cheered on the Quidditch teams as they knocked each other violently off brooms from hundreds of feet in the air. As brilliant as he was, the headmaster was not a man overly concerned with matters of health and safety. 

He was just working up the courage to ask the Centaur this - it was hard to find the best way to say ‘how likely is it that you’re going to off me in the next half an hour?’ - when he heard a rustling in the bushes at the edge of the clearing. The Centaur guarding him heard it too. 

“Stay here,” he said, going to investigate. Remus bit his lip and said nothing. He had his own suspicions - and hopes - about what might be in those bushes. 

“Hey,” said a quiet voice right by his ear. He jumped, but then quickly recovered. “Weird sort of parties you’re into, Moony.” 

“They’re not keen on werewolves,” Remus muttered to James. “Trying to decide what to do with me.” 

“Imagine how excited they’ll be when they find out that you’re a werewolf who can turn _invisible_ at _will,”_ James said, throwing the cloak over him. They got up as quietly as possible and walked slowly away from the clearing, watching their feet to avoid stepping on anything that might crack or crunch and give them away.

“Where are the others?” Remus whispered.

“Wormtail’s in my pocket. Padfoot was the distraction.” 

“Right. So we’ll meet him back-” This thought was interrupted by the angry shouts of the Centaurs, who had clearly noticed his absence.  
  
“The werewolf can’t have gone far,” they heard one call; Remus exchanged a glance with James, and they silently sped up as they heard hooves behind them. They had made it a good distance away when they heard the howling.

“What the fuck is he _doing_ ,” Remus hissed. They heard the Centaurs fall back, following the sound, heading back into the depths of the forest. 

“What he always does,” said James. “ _Obviously._ Come on, we’ll just have to meet him after.” 

Remus cast one quick look back over his shoulder - wishing, for once, that he could be a werewolf whenever he liked and not just at the full moon - before putting his head down and hurrying with James back up towards the castle.

*

Peter went to tell Professor McGonagall to call off the search, while James and Remus climbed the stairs to the boys’ dormitory. Remus couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so tired, which was really saying something; as soon as he collapsed onto the end of his bed, James handed him a bar of chocolate, which he managed to eat in three bites. 

“Can’t believe you made it all the way to the Forest and you didn’t even get splinched,” James said, clearly impressed.

“I wasn’t _trying_ to get to the forest,” Remus replied. “It was an accident. I wasn’t paying attention when they told us about the three fucking Ds, and then I was talking to - well. I wasn’t listening.” 

“Yeah,” James said. “I did hear the two of you competing for the title of world’s biggest wanker. It was a close call. Points scored on both sides.”  
  
“What?” 

“Come _on,_ Moony. Don’t be insulting. I notice things. I’m not _Peter._ ” Remus went red, wondering exactly how _much_ James had noticed. 

“We’re just - I don’t know, he’s being infuriating.” 

“Well you’ll be pleased to hear that he Splinched the shit out of himself. I don’t think he was paying attention to the three Ds either.”  
  
“ _What?_ Is he okay?” 

“Of course he’s okay, you daft bint. Madam Pomfrey sorted him out. He wasn’t running around the Forest on distraction duty with half his head missing.” 

“Yeah,” said Remus. “Right.” 

“Just fucking sort it out, yeah? I’m not enjoying being an extra in whatever weird Greek play you two are re-enacting.” 

“Er - what do you mean?”

“I don’t know. Greek plays. They’re sad, aren’t they? Tragedy, strife? Everybody dies at the end?”  
  
“Yeah,” said Remus, letting out a breath. “Yeah. Tragic.” 

Sirius burst through the door, covered in mud and with a large cut on his knee, blood soaking through his school trousers. Peter was standing in the doorway behind him. 

“Centaurs are extremely fucking fast,” Sirius said, pushing a sweaty strand of hair out of his eyes. “And they _really_ don’t have a sense of humour.” 

At this mention of Centaurs, Remus realised he hadn’t yet told them what he’d learned in the forest; he quickly filled them in, only slightly distracted by Sirius who was Scourgifying himself and changing into clean clothes as he listened, pulling a thick maroon jumper over his tangled hair. 

“Bella’s really lost it, then,” Sirius said when Remus had finished, looking shaken. “Dragging a house-elf out to the Forest and murdering it for fun? Bit extreme, even for my family.”

“I don’t think it was for fun,” Remus said, not meeting his eye. 

“Sounds like it wasn’t her who cast that spell anyway - I bet it was Mulciber with her,” said James. “He’s short.” 

“That poor house-elf,” Peter said sadly. 

“I just don’t _get_ it,” James said, standing up as if he were too agitated to keep still. “What do they have to _gain_?” 

“Do you remember what that house-elf said the other day?” Sirius said thoughtfully. “He said - he said they know loads of ways to get in and out of the castle. Maybe they were trying to get it to show them the passageways.” 

“To get out?” Peter asked.

“Or to let somebody else in,” said James grimly. 

“But the Slytherins didn’t find that tunnel,” Remus countered. “The Centaur said the house-elf crawled in there on its own - even if the elf knew it was there before, it didn’t tell them.” 

“Maybe that’s why they killed it,” said Sirius. “Because it wouldn’t say. Although - come to think of it, I didn’t think a house-elf _could_ refuse an order from a student.” 

“If we’d had this,” James said, brandishing the map, “We’d have known what they were up to. We need to keep an eye on them. See what they’re going to do next.” 

“It’s not finished,” said Remus, shaking his head. “There's loads we still haven't mapped.” 

“Well. We’ll finish it then,” James said determinedly. “And then those pricks will have nowhere to hide.” 

“Aren’t we going to tell McGonagall?” said Peter, looking horrified. “She can go and speak to the Centaurs, and they’ll tell her what happened - and then the teachers can handle this.” 

“No,” said Sirius firmly. “Because the Centaurs will also tell her about Remus. I highly fucking doubt she’ll be as relaxed about the whole thing as Dumbledore.” A very loaded silence followed this. Sirius was looking at Remus. Remus was looking at the floor. 

“Er,” said James awkwardly. “Peter, let’s go and get dinner.”  
  
“But what about-”  
  
“We’ll get dinner, and we’ll bring some up for these two later.” He dragged Peter out of the room by his elbow, still protesting. Sirius stood there, shifting uncomfortably, and then seemed to make a decision. 

“Come on,” he said, already walking to the door.

“What? Where are we going?” 

“Lake,” said Sirius. “Don’t want to do this here.” 

*

They marched down to the lake in grim silence, coming to a stop by the same copse of trees Sirius had followed Remus to after the news of Fenrir Greyback had reached them. It was getting dark, and while the lake had seemed like a good idea in the spur of the moment, Sirius quickly encountered a problem with his plan; namely, that it was absolutely freezing. Remus was shivering but trying not to show it as he crossed his arms and sat down a fallen log. 

“Okay,” Sirius said, making to sit down next to him and then thinking better of it and settling on pacing in front of him instead. “Okay.” 

“Can you hurry up and say whatever it is you want to say?” Remus said irritably. “I didn’t escape Centaurs just to die of hypothermia.”

“Take my jumper,” Sirius said, stopping in front of him.

“I’m not going to take your _jumper_ ,” Remus said incredulously. “Then I’ll have two, and you’ll be frozen. How does that make sense?”

“Fucking take it,” Sirius said, pulling it off over his head and throwing it at Remus. “Just - give me a second to think.”

Remus opened his mouth to argue, but then closed it again and waited, looking thoroughly unimpressed. 

“You’ve nearly died twice in the past week,” Sirius said eventually. It wasn’t quite what he wanted to say, but it felt as good a place to start as any.

“Er - no I haven’t,” said Remus. 

“Well, okay, but I _thought_ you had.”  
  
“Sorry to disappoint,” said Remus, glaring at him. 

“Stop it,” said Sirius desperately. “Remus.” 

“Well I don’t understand why you dragged me out here if you-” 

“I’m sorry. Okay? I’m really sorry.” 

“What are you sorry for?” Remus’s chin was jutting out defiantly, but he was really shivering now, and the combination was making Sirius want to die. 

“Um. For Marlene. I was angry, I was - I don’t know, I was upset.” Sirius was running his hand through his hair now, unable to stop it, knowing he must look ridiculous. He was cold beyond belief, but adrenaline was keeping him going. “We were all hot and heavy over Christmas and then you just fucking _dropped_ me like I was _nothing_ \- like I was suddenly totally repulsive to you. So I’m sorry that I did that, I’m sorry I didn’t tell her to fuck off, I really am, but Remus - you owe me an apology too.” Remus was shivering quite violently now. “And for Christ’s sake, put my fucking jumper on.” 

He looked down at it for a second distastefully, but then gave in and pulled it on. “Okay,” he said dully, through chattering teeth. Sirius frowned at him, confused. He’d been expecting more of a fight. “Okay, I’m sorry. I’m sorry I ignored you. Now can we put this behind us and just go back inside and have dinner?”  
  
“Put it _behind_ us?” Sirius said, horrified. He felt a bit sick. He felt like everything he thought he’d had at Christmas was slipping away from him permanently now, no matter how hard he grasped for it. He didn’t know how to stop it; it was like a language he didn’t speak, or a spell he couldn’t do. He didn’t have the words. 

“We both know this was just - I don’t know, a distraction for you. Temporary. It’s okay. I know you. That’s just what you’re _like._ I don’t begrudge you for it, really. Let’s just accept that it happened, and move on.” 

“Oh, you _know_ me, do you?” Sirius said, glaring down at him. 

“I’ve shared a dormitory with you for five years.”  
  
“Yeah,” said Sirius, feeling reckless now, “but you’ve only shared a bed with me twice.” 

Remus went very red, despite the cold. “What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“It means - it means what the fuck do you know about how I really feel about you? _Not_ just as my friend?” 

“Stop it,” Remus said, getting up. “Stop it, Sirius. I’m going inside.” 

“No,” said Sirius, taking a step towards him. “Stay here and hear this.” 

“I can’t. I _can’t,_ ” Remus said, and he looked really upset now, on the verge of tears. 

“Maybe it was just a _distraction_ for you,” Sirius said, trying to control the shake in his voice. “Maybe it didn’t really mean anything to you. But that’s you, not me. You don’t get to decide how I feel about it.” 

“Okay,” said Remus, swallowing nervously. He was looking at Sirius properly, considering him. It was painful to be looked at that way right now. Remus looked like he wanted to speak again, but time passed - seconds, minutes, Sirius couldn’t tell - and he just _didn’t._

“Go on,” Sirius said slowly. “Ask me how I fucking feel.”

“Okay. Okay. Fine. How do you-” 

“I miss you. All the time. I’m in the same room as you, I’m sleeping a few fucking feet away from you, and I miss you. And - and I even like it when you’re shouting at me, because at least it means you’re _talking_ to me. This week - I’ve never felt so invisible in my whole fucking life. Because you wouldn’t look at me. You wouldn’t see me. And you did at Christmas, Remus. I know I’m not making it up. You can tell yourself whatever you want, you can be a coward and say it was nothing, but I’m not going to do that.”

“Don’t call me a coward,” Remus said quietly. His eyes were closed.

“Stop _fucking acting like one then,_ ” Sirius said, but it didn’t come out angry. It sounded more like he was pleading. He realised he probably was. “ _Please._ ” 

Remus opened his eyes. He looked at Sirius, his expression suddenly softening. “God, I’m such a fucking idiot,” he said, and Sirius was going to agree, was going to say they _both_ were, but Remus put a tentative hand to his face - fingers sliding up his jaw and to the nape of his neck, holding him there, just like they had done outside the library - and kissed him. 

_I’m not going to fuck this up,_ Sirius thought fiercely as he pulled Remus to him. He felt his narrow shoulders under the thick layers of jumper and wanted to put his arms around them and keep him safe, keep him _here_ , and then realised he could, so he did. _Not this._ _It’s too fucking important._


	18. Herbology

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay. Have a nice chapter, for a treat. Nobody shouts, nobody cries. The song for this one is Beth/Rest by Bon Iver, and you should probably start listening as soon as the DATE kicks off. Sample lyrics:
> 
> I ain't living in the dark no more / It's not a promise, I'm just gonna call it 
> 
> Our love is a star / Sure some hazardry / For the light before and after most indefinitely

It was a lot easier to map the castle with James and Peter pitching in to help. It was a lot harder, however, to find time to be alone with Sirius, who kept making matters worse by doing things like whispering outrageous things in Remus’s ear when he was sitting by the fire in the common room, and putting his hand on Remus’s thigh under the Gryffindor table so that he choked and spat tea all over a very offended-looking Peter. From the moment he'd kissed Sirius again, it had been like the previous week of stony silences and hurt feelings had never happened; it was Christmas every day now, admittedly with a multitude of additional obstacles.

At the lake, Sirius had asked Remus what to tell James (he noticed that Sirius didn't ask what they should tell _Peter_ , but then, they probably could have snogged vigorously in front of Peter and he'd have asked what was for dinner). 

"Er," Remus had said eloquently, struggling to focus on the matter at hand while Sirius kissed him enthusiastically behind the ear, "I'd rather we didn't tell him at all. Yet."

Sirius had re-appeared in his field of vision, looking troubled.

"You don't think he's going to mind, do you? It's _Prongs._ If we're happy, he's happy. Christ, he'll be _thrilled_ for you, he's always saying that if you want to loosen up you just need a good hard-"

"Yeah," Remus interjected quickly, "but I don't want him to act - I don't know - strangely around us. I don't want him to think things are going to be different."

"Well, they are different," Sirius said, putting a hand on Remus's hip. He seemed to find it difficult to go more than three seconds without touching Remus. Not that he was complaining. "But they're only different in that instead of bitching at each other we're doing _this_." He did something extremely undignified with his hand, and Remus made an embarrassing squeaking sound in protest.

"Your hand is fucking freezing," he said, not pushing it away.

"I know," Sirius said, looking very pleased with himself. "So's the rest of me, Moony, if you'd care to have a feel."

"How did you _ever_ get anyone to go out with you?" Remus said fondly. "You've got all the grace and charm of a blast-ended skrewt."

"That only reflects poorly on you and _your_ taste, Moony, not me," Sirius said, raising an eyebrow at him rather dangerously. "Now shut up and snog me before my important bits fall off.” 

*

James didn’t seem to have noticed so far. All four of them were together constantly for the next week, meeting as soon as Sirius had finished detention with Slughorn every afternoon so that they could decide where to explore next, doggedly mapping the castle and then working by the fire late into the night so that they didn’t fall behind on their schoolwork. Remus didn’t want to suggest splitting up when they went out searching - it seemed far too obvious - and when James did finally bring it up on his own, he asked Remus to come with him to explore part of the seventh floor while Sirius and Peter went to check for hidden trap-doors in the Owlery.

“You seem to have cheered right up,” James said as they surreptitiously lifted the corner of a large tapestry which depicted a mermaid merrily decapitating a wizard.

“Oh, yeah. Well. Further I get away from full moon, the less of a wanker I am.” 

“Hmm, yeah,” James said, looking sideways at him. “ _Fuck_ the full moon.” 

When they’d finished searching, Remus opened up the map and saw that Peter was miles away from Sirius; he seemed to be sniffing safely around the Herbology greenhouses while Sirius risked getting pecked to death by angry owls. 

“I’m going to head to the library,” Remus said, trying to keep his voice neutral, folding up the map and tucking it away in his pocket. “Are you coming?” 

James looked a bit shifty, and then actually _blushed_. “Actually - er - I’m going to the common room. Evans is going over some Potions homework with me.” 

“Oh, James,” Remus said disapprovingly. “You haven’t slipped her a love potion, have you? Because you know that’s a really dodgy way to-”  
  
“Oh _fuck off_ Moony, I haven’t slipped her anything. I just told her I was struggling with some of the NEWT prep and asked for her help, and she - well, she said yes.”  
  
“I can’t imagine her saying yes.”  
  
“Well, okay, she didn’t say _yes_ , she said something quite rude about the state of my hair, but then she said to meet her, so - I’m off to meet her.”  
  
“Good luck,” Remus said as they parted ways at the stairs. “Hope you get to slip her _something_ in the end.” 

The last he saw of James as he turned the corner was his middle finger.

When he reached the Owlery, Sirius wasn’t there any more; he opened the map and saw that he was a little further out into the grounds, presumably checking the surroundings for tunnel openings. Remus discovered him sticking his lit wand down a small hole in a tree trunk, frowning in concentration as he peered in to see how far it went.

Remus hadn’t seen him for hours, and was suddenly so overcome by _something_ that he launched sideways into him, knocking him quite painfully into a bush. They wrestled together on the grass half-heartedly for a moment before Remus put a knee on Sirius’s stomach, pinning him down, and then grabbed a fistful of his hair and kissed him hard on the mouth. He could feel Sirius laughing with astonishment, and bit down on his lip for good measure. 

“Oh my _God_ Moony, what’s gotten into you?” Sirius mumbled into his mouth. “I’m afraid for my _life._ ”

“Sorry, sorry,” Remus said, pulling away. 

“Don’t _stop_ , you maniac,” Sirius said. “Throw me into the bush again, it was the single best moment of my year.”

“It’s only January.” 

“Alright, well put your hand down my trousers and see if you can top it.” 

The noise that Sirius made when Remus actually did was so satisfying that Remus thought he should probably ambush him more frequently. 

They staggered their return to the common room later, Remus walking in first. Lily and James were sitting at the table closest to the window, their homework abandoned in front of them, talking in low voices. Remus smiled when he saw them; he was going to sneak past and up to the dormitory, but Lily looked up and waved him over.

“You look happy,” she remarked as he sat down. 

“I was just saying that earlier,” James said earnestly. “It’s _very_ suspicious.”  
  
“Is it really so hard to believe that sometimes I’m just a - I don’t know, a relaxed, easy-going person?”

“Yes,” they both said firmly at the same time. 

“Well, he’s been in the library. That always gets him going,” James said, and Remus rolled his eyes. 

“You’ve got a very muddy leaf in your hair,” Lily said, offering him a biscuit. Remus tried not to blush as he removed it, then took the biscuit and shoved it in his mouth before anyone could say anything else to him.

Sirius announced himself a few minutes later by dropping down into the chair next to James and stretching indulgently; Remus watched his shirt ride up as he did so, and then looked quickly away. 

“What news from the owl house?” said James. 

“Nothing of note,” Sirius said, reaching over to take one of the biscuits. She slapped his hand away. 

“You could _ask_ , Black.” 

“Oh, okay, fine - _why_ are you being such a fucking biscuit stinge?” 

“That’s not what I meant,” said Lily, throwing a biscuit at him. He managed to catch it in his mouth but fell backwards out of his chair in the process, and James cheered before remembering himself and attempting to look solemn and disapproving. Sirius got to his feet and ate the biscuit, grinning at Lily. 

“Thanks.”  
  
“Oh, you’re _so_ welcome. You’ve got mud all up the back of your trousers, by the way.” 

“Owls kicked me out,” he said cheerfully, craning his neck to look at the damage. Remus went even redder. Lily looked at him with a question clearly forming and then froze comically, a biscuit halfway to her lips. She frowned slightly, the cogs in her brain visibly turning, then glanced over at Sirius, who was attempting to Scourgify his own arse. 

Remus felt a cold surge of panic rush through him; he caught her eye and gave a very small shake of his head. She raised both eyebrows in surprise, but bit down on her biscuit and said nothing. _Thank you Lily Evans_ , Remus thought with intense relief. _If James doesn’t marry you,_ _maybe I will._

Peter wandered in and they all sat together at the table for a while, Remus enjoying watching James on his absolute _best_ behaviour, before heading down to dinner; Lily surprised them all by sitting down with them instead of going to join her own friends, and James seemed to do the unthinkable and actually _relax_ around her. All of this was undone as soon as they got back up to the privacy of the dormitory later, after a couple of intense hours of back-breaking homework. 

“She actually wanted to talk to me,” James was saying, looking quite panicked. “And then she - she sat with us at dinner. What do you think it means?” 

“Maybe she’s undercover for _Witch Weekly,_ writing one of those undercover articles about dating difficult wizards,” Sirius offered. “Or maybe it’s a dare.” 

“All you’ve done there is reveal that you read _Witch Weekly_ ,” Remus said, laughing. 

“No shame here,” Sirius said, opening a bottle of butterbeer and throwing one each to the rest of them. “They have the instructions for some fucking excellent hair potions. You don’t get hair like this without reading a little bit of _Witch Weekly._ ” 

“Do you have some?” James said urgently. “Hair potion? Can you lend it to me?”  
  
“Prongs,” Sirius said, clicking his fingers in front of James’s unfocussed eyes. “Get a fucking grip on yourself.” 

“I think she likes you,” said Peter, happily opening his bottle of butterbeer. 

“Don’t say that, Peter,” James said, sounding very anguished.

“What? I thought that’s what you wanted?”  
  
“Well, yeah, but I just - that was all in the _abstract_. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do with her now that she’s actually … talking to me.”  
  
“I can give you a few ideas,” Sirius said. “Get a quill and I’ll dictate while you write them down.” 

“I don’t think he needs a quill to write down ‘flick hair, stick tongue down throat’,” said Remus. Sirius narrowed his eyes at him, put down his bottle and then suddenly launched himself at him in a flying tackle. Remus spilled his own butterbeer all down his front as they fell heavily backwards into the gap between Remus and Peter’s beds. 

“ _Worked on you, didn’t it?_ ” Sirius whispered low in his ear, before getting up and dusting himself off. “Eurgh, Moony, you’re all sticky.”  
  
“Whose fault is _that,_ ” Remus said from the floor, but he was smiling. 

“If you two are done violently snogging each other, can we look at the map?” James said, clearly desperate to think about anything other than Lily. Sirius snorted with laughter - Remus fought the urge to look panicked. James was just joking. As always. 

They took out the map and spread it on James’s bed, as they had done every night since Remus’s run-in with the Centaurs. As far as he could tell, everybody was exactly where they should be; Slytherins safe in their common room, McGonagall still working in her office, Filch marching resolutely down a corridor on the second floor. 

“You know, I think we need to put some kind of Disillusionment charm on this,” Remus said, smoothing out a wrinkle in the parchment. “Slughorn almost caught me with it the other day. And it’s far too powerful if the wrong sort of people get hold of it.” 

“Could make it a shield charm,” James said, wrinkling his nose in concentration. “Or maybe we could try something … unique.”

“You’re not going to Frankenstein a couple of spells together again?” Remus said, concerned. “I’m not sure that’s such a good idea, Prongs. Remember when you tried to do - what was that flying spell?” 

“Ahh, waddi-guardium wasi-osa. That was _special_.”  
  
“Sirius went through a window and broke his leg in three places.” 

“It was worth it,” Sirius said, sighing happily at the memory. “I don’t need kneecaps.” 

“Listen, I’ll think of something,” said James. “Leave it to me.” He might have been unforgivably stupid at times, but James was extremely talented when he put his mind to something - as was Sirius, although occasions where he actually put his mind to anything academic were few and far between - so Remus shrugged, and looked up at Sirius.

“Aren’t you on watch tonight?”  
  
“Ugh,” said Sirius gloomily. “Yes. Hand it over.” 

They’d been taking it in turns to stay up for as much as the night as they could to check for more untoward Slytherin movements. Peter had seen Bellatrix and Mulciber back in the kitchens again once, but by the time he’d woken everybody up and managed to communicate what he’d seen they were already safely back in their dungeon.

They all got ready for bed, Sirius pulling the hangings closed around his four-poster but keeping his wand lit so that the room glowed faintly as they settled into their beds. Half an hour later, when he could hear James and Peter breathing evenly, Remus sat up and gently pulled back the curtain just as Sirius did the same across the room. Sirius grinned and put a finger to his lips. They quietly pulled on jumpers and robes - Remus still had the maroon jumper of Sirius’s he’d borrowed down by the lake, and reached for it automatically - and slipped out of the room, Sirius stopping briefly to steal James’s cloak from a pile of clothes next to his bed. 

“Where are we going?” Remus whispered once they’d made it out of the portrait hole. 

“Date,” Sirius said matter-of-factly. 

Remus laughed. “A _date_?” 

“Don’t make me change my fucking mind about this,” Sirius warned him. “I feel ridiculous enough as it is. This is - this is some _Prongs-_ level nonsense that I never thought myself capable of.”

Remus thought about telling Sirius that Lily knew, but he didn’t want to think about that right now - he just wanted to enjoy sneaking out of the castle with Sirius’s arm around his waist, the freezing air against his warm face, the ridiculous way Sirius kept taking him by the hand and leading him everywhere as if he’d never been in the castle grounds before; when they got to the greenhouses, Sirius started counting them off aloud as he walked. Remus was completely baffled.

“What the hell are we doing here?”

“Shh, Moony, I’m doing some complicated maths here.”  
  
“You’re just counting upwards. One number at a time.”  
  
“Shut up for two seconds you _ungrateful_ little fuck - oh, here we are,” he stopped and Alohamora’d the door; Remus was surprised it opened so easily, but then, who’d actually want to break into a school greenhouse in the middle of the night? 

As soon as they went inside he noticed a strange, faint glow coming from the far end; it was hard to tell what it was, with Sirius’s Lumos filling the whole place with white light, the plants casting tall and ominous shadows against the glass walls. 

“Is anything in here going to - I don’t know, eat me?” 

“Christ, Moony, you make the jokes so easy that they aren’t even fun,” Sirius said, drawing him closer and biting him gently on the shoulder, while Remus rolled his eyes and tried not to look pleased. Sirius released him and led him down the row of plants. It was warm in the greenhouse, and pleasantly fragrant - so tropical that it suddenly felt silly to be wearing so many layers. “Alright,” Sirius said when they reached the very end, putting his lit wand down on top of one of the plant-laden tables. “Take off your robes.”

“Such a smooth talker,” Remus said, crossing his arms and absolutely not removing any of his clothes, despite the fact that he’d been seriously considering it seconds before.

“Oh _calm down_ , I just mean - this,” Sirius said, taking off _his_ set of winter robes and laying them down on the stone floor. Remus frowned at him, but then did the same. The plants all around them were massive, laden with huge, bell-shaped blue and purple flowers that seemed almost incandescent in the low light. Sirius grabbed his wand and sat down on their makeshift blanket, and Remus sat down beside him. “We should lie down,” Sirius said, and Remus snorted. 

“I mean, again, your way with words, it’s like reading Byron-” 

“ _Moony_ ,” Sirius said, frustrated. “I’m trying to do a very _nice thing_ here and sincerity makes my teeth hurt so just fucking lie down and shut up.” 

Remus did. Sirius lay down beside him. Their elbows and shoulders were touching, and he could feel Sirius’s hair soft against his chin; it tickled a bit, but he didn’t mind. Sirius pulled out the map and checked it quickly, then threw it aside. 

“Okay,” he said. “ _Nox._ ”

As soon as the light from his wand extinguished, the plants all around them glowed so brightly that they looked lit from within; the whole greenhouse was bathed in unnatural shades of blue and purple, transformed into something completely alien and extraordinarily beautiful. As he watched, Sirius raised his wand lazily and muttered " _Praetexio"_ \- a section of the foggy glass ceiling above them seemed to vanish, although Remus felt no rush of cold air. The stars were burning so brightly that the whole sky looked alive with them. 

“I can’t believe you were paying enough attention in Charms to do _that_ ,” Remus said, a little awe-struck despite himself. He hadn’t been able to master the invisibility charm yet, and he was actually doing the practice homework. 

“I only pay attention to the things that might actually help me in life,” Sirius said, putting his arm around Remus and pulling him in so that Remus’s head was resting tucked between his chin and his shoulder. “The whole time Flitwick was talking I thought _ah, yes, this’ll make Moony swoon_ , and look at you now. Swooning.” 

“Not swooning,” Remus grumbled, but he was a bit. It was so warm, and it smelled so good, and the flowers and the stars were being so ridiculously over-the-top; it was hard not to feel touched by it all, by the fact that Sirius had known about this place and thought to bring him here. “That’s Orion. Isn’t it? I can only see the bottom half of the constellation.” Sirius flinched at the sound of the name, and Remus felt like an idiot for saying it. “Sorry, Padfoot.” 

“It’s fine. Only in my family would we be so self-absorbed as to look at the bloody stars and go _oh yeah, this baby? This baby is an_ Orion.” Sirius titled his head, and Remus tried to follow his gaze. “You just have to go down and to the left a bit to find his fucking _dog_.” He raised a hand and pointed. “There.” 

“The dog is better,” Remus said, squeezing his arm. “Brightest star in the fucking sky.”

“Yeah. The dog is better,” Sirius said, turning to look at him. “Your face is very blue in this light.” 

Remus winced at the thought of being studied so closely, his new scars shining vividly. “I look awful.”

“No no no,” Sirius said, shifting upright so he could cup Remus’s face and run his thumbs gently over his cheekbones. “Moony. It’s _extremely_ attractive. You look like some sort of hero out of myth. I don’t know the names. You’d know them. You look like you’ve been slaying dragons and saving the townsfolk. It’s sexy.”

“I wouldn’t slay a dragon. I like dragons.” 

“Fine, you look like you got into a mild disagreement with a dragon about how it takes its tea.” 

“ _Very_ sexy.” 

“You have _no_ fucking idea,” Sirius said, leaning down and kissing him. Remus felt like all the tension left his body as Sirius covered it with his, felt like he was sinking down through the stone floor and into warm, comforting earth below it. When he pushed Sirius away so that he could take off his jumper, Sirius didn’t make any stupid jokes; he just took his off too, and his pyjama top, and reached to unbutton Remus’s. 

Remus stopped him. “Let me,” he said, and Sirius sat back on his heels to give Remus the space to do it. He had gone for so long without anybody but Madam Pomfrey and his parents seeing him without a shirt on that his hands shook as he undid the buttons, but he kept looking resolutely up at Sirius as he pulled it off and added it to the pile of clothes next to his head. 

_“Remus_ _,_ ” Sirius said, frowning down at him. He knew what Sirius was seeing, why he looked so taken aback; his entire torso was a mass of scars, criss-crossing every inch of him, raised and huge where he’d broken old wounds open again and again. They all knew he had scars, of course - it was impossible to hide them, especially the one that twisted down the back of his arm and made it hard to bend his elbow properly - but he’d always changed in the bathroom, never taken his shirt off and jumped into the lake with the others at the end of term, and so had managed to keep quite how many he had a closely-guarded secret. 

He said nothing, still keeping eye contact, refusing to look away. Sirius hesitated for a second, and then put out a hand and ran his fingers along Remus’s collarbone, reaching down to kiss where his fingers had just been. Remus closed his eyes, felt Sirius’s other hand run across his ribs, felt the thrill and the terror of the fact that Sirius had seen him, really _seen_ him, and wanted to touch him anyway; reached out and pulled him down onto their robes so that he could press every inch of his body to Sirius’s.

“Hey,” Sirius muttered a little while later when they were wearing even fewer clothes, Remus reaching down to sweep his long hair away so that he could kiss his neck. “I really, really like you, Moony.” 

Remus drew back for a second, took in Sirius’s flushed face, his expression of intense, earnest focus, the way his dark eyelashes formed delicate half-moons when he closed his eyes again. “I know,” he said, reaching for Sirius’s hand and interlocking their fingers tightly against the ground. “Now _shh_.”


	19. Knowing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My brain was not present for the writing of this chapter. I hope there are some words in it. The song is Pretty Great by Fickle Friends because WHAT A FUN PARTY SONG.

Sirius knew he was fucked in three key ways; the first was that he’d completely forgotten he was supposed to be keeping watch with the map, and when he’d finally picked it up at two o’ clock in the morning to check for obstacles on their way back up to the castle, he’d seen that Bellatrix, Mulciber, Avery and Lestrange were all walking through the entrance hall and back towards the dungeons as if they’d definitely been up to no good.

The second was that in all the excitement of alternately shouting at Remus and getting undressed with him, he had entirely forgotten to break it off with Marlene. When she came up to him in the Entrance Hall over lunch the next day and asked if he wanted to go for a smoke behind the Quidditch pitch he’d had to tell her no, thanks, and actually, never again, thanks. She’d taken it quite well, but he still didn’t feel fantastic about it.

The third, and most pressing as the day went on, was that he couldn’t keep his eyes off Remus, and it was getting to be a real struggle to control his hands, too. He didn’t even have the heart to glare at the back of Snape’s head in Potions - James had that covered, anyway - because he couldn’t stop looking at Remus’s fingers resting lightly on the desk; Remus leaning down to get a new quill out of his bag; Remus’s sharp intake of breath when Sirius intentionally bumped into him as they went up to collect their ingredients, putting a hand to his waist to steady him. He had to deep-clean cauldrons with Slughorn for his detention and kept going all glassy-eyed while elbow-deep in old potion sludge, thinking of the night before. 

By the end of the day he had such a bad headache from it all that he lay face down on the rug in front of the common room fire and refused to get up no matter how many times people asked what he was doing. Remus was sitting at the table with Peter ostensibly doing homework, although he could feel rather than see that he kept glancing over at him. 

“You look dead,” James said when he came in, splattered with mud from Quidditch practice.

“Maybe I am dead,” Sirius said, his voice muffled by the rug. “Wouldn’t that be nice.” 

“Is this about you missing the Slytherins on the - the _thing?_ ” James said, giving Sirius’s shoe a gentle kick. “It’s fine, you fell asleep, could have happened to anyone. We’ll get them next time. There’ll always be a next time with those wankers.” 

“I miss sleeping,” Sirius said, finally turning over. “Remember sleeping?” 

“No,” said Remus with feeling. “How was practice, James?” 

“Medium to shit,” James said, collapsing onto the sofa and instantly covering it with mud. “They’re going to flatten us.” 

“That’s the spirit,” said Sirius, closing his eyes. “The power of positive thinking. Manifestation. _Be_ the quaffle.” 

“What the fuck is he talking about?” James asked Remus. 

“No idea,” Remus said. “But I’m on watch tonight. So _everybody else_ can get some rest.” Sirius knew he was aiming this last at him. 

Sirius fell asleep by the fire at eight o’ clock on a pile of Defence Against the Dark Arts homework after writing precisely one sentence, and woke with a start in the middle of the night to see Remus at the table with the map open on one side of him and an extremely long essay on the other. 

“Did you put this blanket on me?” Sirius said, sitting up and squinting around blearily. 

“No,” said Remus, running a tired hand through his already dishevelled hair. “Prongs did it. Very lovingly, I might add.” 

“Well, that’s nice.”  
  
“He also wanted to draw a dick and balls on your forehead and charm it on there permanently, but I talked him out of it.” 

“Good man.” Sirius got up and pulled the blanket around his shoulders, shuffling over to the table. “What are you writing?” 

“The same Defence Against the Dark Arts essay you said you were going to finish tonight,” said Remus, sighing and frowning at what he’d just written. He had a blotch of ink on the side of his nose. 

“How is your brain still forming complete sentences? You’ve had about as much sleep as I have.” 

“Used to it,” Remus said, although he looked shattered. Sirius sat down next to him, pulling his chair over so that he could rest his head on Remus’s shoulder.

“You keep writing,” Sirius said, yawning, “and I’ll just have a little kip here.” Remus laughed and lifted his free hand to Sirius’s head, rubbing him affectionately behind the ears; Sirius closed his eyes and leaned into it, turning his face into Remus’s neck. “Hey. Moony,” he murmured, putting a hand on Remus’s thigh. Remus sighed. 

“Do you remember last night? When we forgot about the map entirely and felt like shit about it afterwards? And - also - that this essay is due in two days? Any of that ringing a bell?” 

“I remember last night _vividly_ ,” Sirius said, arching his eyebrow. “But mostly the part where you took all your clothes off, and then you helped me take _my_ clothes off, and then-” 

“ _Sirius_.” 

“I’ll write your essay for you tomorrow, Moony. I’ll do joined-up writing and everything. And I can keep one eye on the map, I’m _extremely_ good at multitasking.” Remus snorted with disbelief but kissed him anyway, and Sirius half-climbed into his lap in his enthusiasm, making Remus laugh again against his mouth. They stayed like that for a while, map and essay predictably forgotten, until Remus shifted uncomfortably and said “Get off my leg, Padfoot, it’s gone numb.” Sirius slid backwards into his own chair again, turned, and then froze.

Lily Evans was standing at the bottom of the staircase to the dormitories in her pyjamas, arms full of books, frowning at them. 

“Evening, Evans,” Sirius blustered, pushing his hair back off his face. “I was just - Remus needed help with, er-”  
  
“She already knows, Sirius,” Remus said, sounding pained.

“But please, do go on,” Lily said. “I really want to know what he was _helping_ you with.”  
  
“No you don’t,” Remus said, still sounding as if he wished he were dead, and she laughed. 

“You’re both idiots,” she said, shaking her head. “What’s with the floor show? I thought you didn’t want anybody to know?” 

“Um,” said Sirius, trying to work out when Lily had become a terrifyingly powerful Occlumens. 

“You’re right,” Remus said. “Stupid.” 

“What the hell are _you_ doing down here, anyway?” Sirius demanded, deciding to skirt over the issue of how and what she knew, as it was obviously now a moot point.

“Same as you,” Lily said, gesturing at the table. Sirius looked down and noticed that Remus had managed to whisk the map out of sight. “Well. Not _quite_ the same as you. I was going to write my essay without somebody sitting in my lap.” 

“If you need a lap-warmer, Evans, I’ll go and wake up James right now-” 

“What do you _see_ in him, Lupin? Imperio’d you, has he?” Lily said, coming and putting her books and parchment down and taking a seat opposite them. 

“Something like that,” Remus said, but he squeezed Sirius’s knee under the table.

“You have to tell James and Peter soon, you know. Especially James. Although he’ll feel so left out he’ll probably want to join in.” 

“I’ll just tell him we saw you in your jim-jams and he’ll be so thrilled and appalled he won’t be able to think about anything else for a week,” said Sirius airily.

She ignored him, opened her book and asked Remus about some detail of the essay; they talked about it for an age, and when they weren’t talking about it they were scratching away with their quills companionably. It was all rather soothing, and Sirius kept feeling his head nodding, until Remus shook him gently by the shoulder and told him to go to bed.

“I’ve never left a party early in my life,” he mumbled, somewhat confused, and then staggered over to the sofa and his blanket and curled up underneath it, listening to Lily and Remus talk in low voices about the parameters of advanced shield charms.

“You must really like him,” he heard Lily say quietly, when he was almost asleep. 

“Er. Yeah.” 

“It doesn’t annoy you? All the smirking and the bravado and the grandstanding and the - constantly having to be the most exciting person in the room - or at least, the person everybody’s _looking_ at?” 

“I don’t know. I suppose I always thought he was worth looking at.” 

“You’ve got Stockholm Syndrome.” 

A sigh. “He’s having a pretty shit time of it. But he doesn’t get sadder. He just gets louder.” 

“Why be emotionally literate when you can just set off dungbombs instead?” 

“Well. You wouldn’t understand.” 

“No.” 

“But I don’t think we’re necessarily just talking about Sirius right now.” 

“Worry about _your_ idiot,” Lily said, and Sirius thought she was probably smiling. “Not the other one.” 

Another sigh. “They’re both my idiots.” 

*

Against all the odds and all of James’s dark predictions, Gryffindor beat Hufflepuff by the skin of their teeth; afterwards James was so full of relief and adrenaline that he alternated between looking like he was going to pass out and running around without his shirt on shouting things like “EAT MUD, FUCKLEPUFF” until Professor McGonagall threatened to kick him off the team for poor sportsmanship. 

“Take it to the common room, Potter,” she said, charming his discarded Quidditch jersey at him; so they did. 

“Eleven goals!” Peter kept saying reverentially. “Eleven!” Someone had brought a record player down and they were blasting Muggle music - something triumphant about being champions - which just added to the general air of euphoria and pandemonium. 

“It was all Kingsley, really,” James said, knocking back the glass of firewhiskey Sirius had just handed him in one gulp. “He had me covered so well - every time they tried to take a shot at me, there he was, smacking the shit out of those fucking bludgers. Like a guardian angel. Like a guardian angel with thighs that could crack a walnut.” 

“You know,” said Sirius, “I reckon we could get a walnut. _Kingsley_. Come here.” 

When it came down to it, Sirius thought Remus may have muttered a spell under his breath to get the walnut to actually crack, but it didn’t matter; they were all in such high spirits that they all screamed and cheered with joy anyway and had Kingsley hold the nut aloft like a trophy while they chanted his name. There was a lot of name-chanting in general; at one point when it went quiet Sirius started shouting “Re-mus, _Re-mus_ ,” and Remus looked like he wanted to die of shame when everybody joined in, eventually hoisting him up on their shoulders and doing a lap around the common room while he went bright red and asked them repeatedly to put him down, protesting that he wasn’t even _on_ the Quidditch team. 

Sirius got drunk enough to forget - or pretend to forget - that he wasn’t supposed to touch Remus in public, and kept throwing an arm around his shoulder or his waist, laughing when Remus shook him off and looked ruffled. At one point Sirius managed to corner him by the fireplace just out of view and press a quick, hard, whiskey-soaked kiss to his mouth before bouncing away back into the jubilant crowd. He had just gone to fetch yet _more_ whiskey when he ran into James, who was holding up a translucent bag of something suspect and looking pleased. 

“Muggle drugs,” he said happily. 

“Muggle drugs,” Sirius repeated, grinning. 

“I’m a _prefect_ ,” Remus said in a strained tone when Sirius relayed the information to him and started dragging him towards the dormitory. “I can’t be seen to condone this.” 

“So am I, Lupin, but you’re only young once,” Lily said as she passed them on her way to the stairs. Sirius and Remus exchanged a glance. 

“She’s not,” said Sirius. 

“Is she?” said Remus. 

As it turned out, she was. When they entered the Gryffindor common room she was sitting on the edge of Peter’s bed, gazing around at everything with interest; James was looking almost beside himself with glee but affecting nonchalance as he tried and failed to roll a joint on top of his trunk. Peter was watching from the floor and making little noises of encouragement. 

“Give it here,” Sirius said, and James relinquished everything over to him; he quickly rolled two fat joints and presented them with a flourish. 

“Couldn’t you just cast a wonky Cheering Charm on yourself and be done with it?” Remus said, watching as James lit the first joint with a flash of blue flame.

“Could do,” James said, taking a deep toke and then sighing happily as he exhaled an enormous cloud of smoke. “But it’s better like this. Less control. Can’t just switch it off again.” 

“Ah, yes,” said Remus. “That’s exactly what you need. _Less control_.” 

Lily snorted with laughter, but accepted the joint from James and inhaled deeply, coughing a little on the exhale and handing it back to him before tilting her head back and closing her eyes; Sirius had to whack James on the shoulder to get him to stop staring at her and actually pass it to him. 

He felt the loosening of his limbs and the pleasant detachment of his brain at once; he turned his head lazily to Remus, who only hesitated for a second before accepting the joint from him.

Forty minutes later they were all lying on the dormitory floor watching Lily draw sparkling patterns in the air above their heads with her wand as if wielding a sparkler. Sirius had engineered a calculated collapse next to Remus, had leaned his head back against Remus’s chest and then left it there when nobody seemed to notice or care. Not that Sirius could even feel Remus underneath him anymore; he felt like he was floating and falling at the same time, suspended by some substance-induced _Arresto Momentum_ that never seemed to end. 

“Severus showed me how to do this,” Lily said lazily. “First year.” 

“Prick,” James mumbled immediately. 

“Yeah, well. He was - he wasn’t so bad. Then.” 

“He and his mates hadn’t started … killing off the help,” Sirius said. He only realised he’d said it aloud when all eyes turned to him. 

“Killing the - what?” Lily said, her wand stalling in the air. 

“Oh fuck,” Sirius said, closing his eyes, wondering if he could will it unsaid. 

“I don’t see why she can’t know,” Remus said quietly from somewhere behind his head. 

“There’s just a lot - you have to know a lot,” James said, “to _know_. You know?” 

“How could I possibly know,” said Lily, and Sirius thought that normally she’d be rolling her eyes by now, but she didn’t seem to have the strength to be her usual sardonic self. 

“Let’s not tell her,” Sirius said stupidly, as if she weren’t still sitting right there.

“Don’t mind him,” James said, reaching over to clumsily pat Lily on the leg. “He’s a dog.” 

“He’s a dog?” Lily said, baffled. Peter started giggling incessantly over on the other side of their circle.

“Yeah, but it’s okay. I have … horns.” 

“They’re not horns,” Remus said mildly. “They’re antlers.”

“Yeah,” Sirius said, laughing already at his own joke. “You’re confusing … confusing horns and _horny_.” 

“Why don’t you just tell me the basics,” Lily said, ignoring this. “Severus did … what?” 

James told her. He didn’t explain how they knew, but he relayed the key events as best he could, although Sirius noticed that he kept getting distracted; he frequently trailed off and had to be prompted to speak again. When he’d finished, Lily was looking at him in horror.

“Yeah,” said Sirius. “It’s fucking _wild_.” 

“And you haven’t told a teacher about this … because … why?” she said, sounding a little more sober than she had done a few minutes ago.

“They’d ask how we know, and it’s … complicated,” said James, his eyes flicking involuntarily over to Remus. 

“Right,” said Lily, considering Remus for a second. “Right. You’re all … fucking mental.” 

“It’s true,” James said insistently. “I swear, it’s true. Ask me about it tomorrow, and I’ll … I’ll prove it.” 

Lily looked as if she very much doubted this, and frowned around at them all, then sighed. “I think,” she said slowly, “That I need … more weed.” 

“Now _that_ we can do,” said James, already reaching for his wand. 

Sirius had never been so stoned in his entire life. He felt like the room had changed shape around him; time was flowing slowly and quickly at the same time, and he was so caught up in his own thoughts that he was utterly delighted when Remus suddenly spoke low and close to his ear, simply because he’d forgotten that Remus existed at all. 

“Meet me,” he said with some effort. “Bathroom.” 

“Bathroom,” Sirius repeated, and he felt his head shift and hit something with a distant sort of interest as the floor beneath him moved. Or was it Remus who had moved? Or was he lying on Remus _now_ ? Or was _he_ Remus? 

_No_ , Sirius thought stubbornly, _I’m Sirius_ . But Remus had asked him to do something. He needed something. Didn’t he? But where was he? And how long ago had that been? He sat up, although it seemed to take an hour, and blinked around at the room. Remus certainly wasn’t _here_. Lily was here, drawing those sparkling spirals with her wand again. James was here, watching her in complete awe, like she was inventing the world right in front of him. Peter was … well, Peter was fast asleep. 

“Moony said - he wants something,” he said, and sat feeling startled and surprised that he’d managed to make noise come out of his mouth.

“What? Where is he?” James said slowly, still not taking his eyes off Lily.

Sirius screwed up his eyes in concentration and thought for quite a long time. “Bathroom,” he said eventually. That sounded right. But why did he need something in the bathroom? 

He watched James get up almost as if in slow motion and stumble across the room; only when he disappeared into the corridor did something connect in Sirius’s brain, and a faint flare of panic went up deep in the recesses of his mind.

“Prongs,” he said, but the words were like treacle in his mouth. “Wait, Prongs-” he got to his feet and staggered after him, but heard a knock, a door opening, heard two voices shout “ _FUCK”_ at the same time and knew he’d been too late.

James reappeared in the corridor, looking shell-shocked. “Think that was meant for you, mate,” he said, before snorting incredulously and then bursting out laughing. The bathroom door slammed shut again.

“Oh shit,” Sirius said, steadying himself on the wall. “Remus?” 

Remus didn’t respond, but he heard movement in the bathroom; it sounded like something had been violently knocked over.

“Oh _shit_ ,” Sirius said again, sliding down until he was sitting on the floor. James was still laughing. Remus finally opened the door, bright red and looking thunderstruck. 

“What happened?” said Lily as she joined them, looking rather more dishevelled than Sirius had ever seen her before. 

“You don’t … you don’t want to know,” James spluttered. “I’ll take it - I’ll take it to my grave.”  
  
“Oh my fucking _Christ_ ,” said Remus, running both hands through his hair. 

“And by that,” James said, leaning back on the wall for support, “I mean - I mean it’s imprinted so firmly in my mind that it’ll be … it’ll flash before my eyes before I die.” 

“Oh shit,” Sirius said redundantly for the third time. He got up with some difficulty. “Moony, I’m so sorry, I’m so, so, sorry-” 

“Please stop talking,” said Remus, hand covering his eyes. “Please nobody ever talk … ever again.” 

“What _happened_?” Lily said again. 

Sirius attempted to engage his brain for long enough to say something helpful. It stalled. He gave it a go anyway .“Moony was just … trying to … show me something,” he said. James tipped his head back and laughed until he cried. 

*

“How did you know?” Remus said when Sirius had given him a restorative glass of firewhiskey. He was clutching it like it was a life raft. 

“What?” said James. The room still felt strangely distorted; Sirius was clinging very hard to one of the posts on his bed to keep from falling over, using the other hand to rub what he hoped were soothing circles on Remus’s back. 

“You said - you knew I was waiting for him,” Remus said, as if every word were causing him great pain. 

“Oh,” James said, snorting. “Come _on_. You’re not … you’re not _subtle_. And he’s been a nightmare over you for months. He kept flirting with you - he was always grabbing your hand and cosying up next to you and trying to get you to … I don’t know, wrestle with him.”

“Er, no he wasn’t,” Remus said. 

“Yes he was,” called Lily from across the room, where she was lying on James’s bed attempting to decipher one of Sirius’s copies of _Witch Weekly_. 

“I am sitting ... right here,” Sirius said, although in his present state he couldn’t be sure if that was actually true. 

“I just thought you weren’t - I don’t know, ready to _tell_ yet,” James said, and Sirius beamed at him. Lovely James. Understanding James. What a top notch bloke. “Also … thought you might be deeply embarrassed by your choices, Moony.” Bastard. Fuck off. Fucking _James_. 

“I am a _catch_ ,” Sirius said stubbornly, and Remus laughed shakily but then put a hand on his knee. 

“Yeah - well. I’m happy for you,” James said, going to lie down on his bed and smiling serenely up at the ceiling when Lily didn’t get up immediately or shove him off. “But I’m _really_ happy that Moony’s put his trousers back on.” 

Remus let out a pained little huff and flopped backwards onto the bed; Sirius threw a cushion at James, who batted it away amiably, and then lay down next to Remus.

“Hey,” he said, reaching out and squeezing Remus’s hand. Remus hesitated for a second, but then closed his fingers around Sirius’s and squeezed back. Peter was snoring. James was saying something to Lily in a low voice, and she was laughing. It was incredible enough, Sirius thought, to be seventeen and alive and happy and stoned out of his mind, surrounded by his friends; but most incredible of all to be able to hold Remus’s hand, with all the lights on, and really, truly not care who saw them. 


	20. Mr Meadowes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The only homophobes at Hogwarts are the fascists, pass it on. Today’s song is Dynasty by Rina Sawayama. (PS I am reading all of your comments and they are making me Very Happy).

"Remus and Sirius are kissing,” Peter said, sounding completely baffled.

"Yeah, and they won't fucking stop it, even if some of us are extremely hungover and don't want to watch softcore porn before breakfast,” said James, his voice thin and croaky. 

Remus hardly thought that Sirius putting an arm around him and pressing one very chaste kiss to the side of his mouth warranted so much complaining, but he shoved Sirius away and stood up, a little pink in the cheeks. He was still feeling pretty shy about the whole thing; Sirius, on the other hand, seemed to have been waiting for an invitation to start extreme public displays of affection, and kept getting irritable every time Remus rebuffed one of his enthusiastic advances. 

“Why are you kissing?” Peter said, his voice getting dramatically higher in pitch.

“Why the fuck do you _think_ we’re kissing?” Sirius said, a touch too aggressively. 

Peter glanced over at James, looking for backup, and then frowned at Sirius when none was forthcoming. “Am I missing something here? I didn’t know you … kissed.” 

“Well it’s a brave new world, Pete. Better get your head around it fast or you’ll be spending a lot of time very confused,” Sirius said, getting up and putting on his jumper. Remus gave him a disapproving look, which he ignored. 

“We have to share a dormitory, you know. You can’t just sit up here snogging each other’s faces off all the time,” said James as he peered into the mirror and ruffled his hair experimentally. 

“Last night you said - I thought you were _happy_ for us,” Remus said, feeling distinctly uncomfortable that they were spending so much time talking about the ins and outs of he and Sirius’s kissing habits. 

“I am happy,” said James, giving his hair another go. “I’m also _so_ deeply fucking offended that neither of you tried to hit on me.”

“Debatable,” said Sirius. “I put my tongue in your mouth plenty of times.” 

“As Padfoot,” James said. “Mostly, anyway.”

“You don’t like boys,” countered Remus.

“No,” said James, “But I like to feel included.”

“There is literally so much wrong with that sentence that I don’t even know where to start,” Remus said incredulously. He was extremely relieved when James just shrugged and started talking about the Quidditch match again. As they walked out of the door in search of breakfast Remus touched two fingers lightly to the underside of Sirius’s wrist, then laughed when Sirius grabbed his hand forcefully and didn’t even attempt to shake him off. 

The Gryffindor table was extremely subdued after the previous night’s celebrations. Remus saw McGonagall and Grubbly-Plank exchange a knowing look when a first-year loudly dropped an entire platter of pastries and there was a collective flinch and groan from the upper years, who were either picking at their food or devouring it without stopping to breathe. 

“When did Lily leave last night?” Remus asked James, who was sitting opposite him contemplating the second half of his fried egg as if he couldn’t decide whether to kiss it or fight it. 

“About two,” he said, smiling despite his general air of exhaustion. “I sort of hoped she’d just forget to go back to her dormitory, but …”

“Life’s not that kind,” said Sirius. He was eating a huge stack of pancakes, and the sight of them turned Remus’s stomach as he sipped Earl Grey and nibbled experimentally on a dry piece of toast. 

“I honestly thought she-” Whatever James was thinking was cut off suddenly by the sound of a blood-curdling scream. Almost everybody at the Gryffindor table and some from neighbouring houses jumped or got to their feet, and Remus saw multiple people reach for their wands, looking around for some sort of threat. There was a shocked hush for second, and then that noise again; this time it was more of a wail, and Remus realised that it was coming from Dorcas Meadowes, a seventh-year he’d only spoken to a handful of times. 

“What the fuck?” said James, looking thoroughly rattled. Dorcas was sitting at the end of the table holding a letter, the owl that had delivered it still perched on the empty toast-rack beside her. They all stood up to go to her but were pushed aside by Marlene and Lily, who reached her just as she collapsed into hysterical tears. 

Dread curled in the pit of Remus’s stomach; he wanted to put off the moment of knowing what had happened for as long as possible, but Sirius was already rushing over to the end of the table, James at his side. 

“Sirius-” Remus called weakly after him, but they were already out of range, so he followed them reluctantly. Dorcas was sobbing into Marlene’s shoulder; great, heaving sobs that sounded more like an animal in pain than anything human. Lily was reading the letter, looking faintly sick. 

“He’s d-dead,” Dorcas choked out, her voice muffled by Marlene’s jumper. “They _killed_ him. He’s _dead_.” 

Remus looked at Lily. Tears were sliding down her face as she folded the letter back up, making it smaller and smaller as if she wanted to remove it from existence entirely. She put a hand on Dorcas’s shoulder and squeezed it tightly. Marlene closed her eyes, her shoulders shaking. The rest of the Great Hall had fallen silent; the only sound was Dorcas’s ragged, guttural crying. 

A crowd had started to form around them. Remus was jostled by some third years, who were craning their necks to try to see what had happened. Lily glanced up at them all and her eyes narrowed. 

“Go back to your seats,” she said, angrily wiping away a tear with the back of her hand. “I mean it. This is private."

Remus turned and started shooing people away. “Sit down,” he told the third years, who were resisting his efforts. “I’m a Prefect,” he added sternly, and they finally gave up and went to take their seats. 

The doors to the Great Hall opened, and Remus looked up to see Dumbledore striding through them. He looked exhausted and extremely dishevelled; Remus had never seen him look so unravelled. As he watched Dumbledore approach the table, he noticed a large and nasty-looking bruise on the headmaster’s temple and another on his forearm. Dumbledore put a hand gently to Marlene’s shoulder, indicating that she should release Dorcas and get up, which she did at once.

“Dorcas,” Dumbledore said quietly. “When you’re ready, please come with me. I think there are some things we need to discuss.” Dorcas nodded slowly, although she looked as if she barely understood what Dumbledore was saying; he offered her his good arm and she got unsteadily to her feet before being led out of the hall. 

“What happened?” James said to Lily, who was still standing with her hands balled into fists.

Lily considered him for a minute. “Come on,” she said, jerking her head in the direction of the Entrance Hall; they all followed her. Remus could still hear Dorcas crying in the distance, the sound getting quieter and quieter.

“Her dad was the deputy head of the Auror Office,” Lily said quietly. “He’s been murdered. At home in Sussex. They tortured him first.” 

“ _Fuck_ ,” Sirius and James breathed at the same time. 

“And - and she found out by _letter_?” Remus said, wincing. 

Lily sighed unhappily and ran a hand through her hair. “I don’t think she was meant to - that letter was from her aunt, not her mum. I think the letter got here before her mum could - I don’t know, Floo her or something.” 

“Shit,” said Remus. 

“Poor Dorcas,” said Peter quietly. 

“Murdering the deputy head of the Auror Office is - well, it’s a pretty fucking big deal, isn’t it?” James said, frowning. “I mean I know the attacks have been getting worse, but - I don’t know, I guess I thought they’d catch him soon.” 

“He’s the most powerful dark wizard of all time. He’s not going to go down without the fight to end all fights. Why do you think Dumbledore is never here?” said Lily. Remus exchanged a look with Sirius. 

“What, you think he’s off - fighting Lord Voldemort?” said Peter, his eyes wide. 

“Obviously,” said Lily. “Dumbledore’s probably the only one who can finish him off. I’m surprised we ever see him at all, honestly.” 

“He looked like - he looked like he’d been in a fight,” Remus said. “When he came in to get Dorcas.” 

“I bet he came right from Sussex. I bet he was _there_ ,” said Sirius, and Lily nodded. 

“I don’t think he likes being away so much. Hogwarts is an obvious target,” Lily said grimly. “I mean - think about it. Some of the most powerful witches and wizards in England are teaching here, and there’s a whole school’s worth of magical kids to kidnap and torture and kill to get their parents to fall in line. And if you’re right about what happened on the night of the Hogsmeade attack - surely it’s only a matter of time before they make it inside.” 

They all contemplated this in silence.

“Didn’t you say something last night about - a house-elf?” Lily said, her brow wrinkling. “Was that - was that just the weed? You said … you said the _Slytherins_ _…_ wait, that can’t be right.” James looked pointedly at the floor. Sirius coughed and shifted uncomfortably. “Was that just - was that just the least fun stoner talk ever?” 

Remus considered her for a second before coming to a decision. “Can you - can you come upstairs and meet us in the boys’ dormitory in twenty minutes?” 

“What?” she said, looking surprised.

“Yeah,” said James. “What?” 

“Um,” said Remus. “I think it’s probably time we had a proper chat.” 

*

“There’s no going back from this,” Sirius said warningly as Remus paced around the dormitory. The others were all sitting on their beds, watching him walk in circles.

“I know,” said Remus, his mouth set in a line. “I know. I just - I think we can trust her. And we half-told her last night, you know? I don’t know. What do you think?” He turned to James, who shrugged.

“I say we tell her.” 

“Of course _you_ fucking do,” snapped Sirius. “You just want another reason to have quiet little meetings with her in corners, and - and let her in on all our secrets, and-”  
  
“Oh yeah, _really_ romantic,” James interjected. “‘Come over here, Evans, and I’ll whisper the latest body count in your ear while we run around getting kidnapped by Centaurs and looking for the rotting corpses of house-elves’.” 

“It’s Moony who’s taking the real risk,” Sirius said. 

“I know,” said Remus, rubbing his eyes agitatedly. 

“Hence the pacing,” said Peter helpfully.

There was a knock at the door, and it opened. 

“It looks different in here when you’re sober,” Lily said, casting her eyes around at the unmade beds and scattered belongings. “Worse.” 

“Hi,” Remus said nervously. “Hi.” 

“You did that bit.” 

“Alright,” Sirius said suddenly, getting to his feet and clapping his hands together. “Everybody out.” 

“But-” started James, but Sirius cut him off with a dark look. They all trooped out, leaving Remus and Lily standing there, looking at each other. 

“As much fun as this is,” Lily said after a good ten seconds of this, “I’d probably prefer it if you could get to the point before we graduate.”  
  
“Right,” said Remus. “Right. Okay. Sit down. If you want, I mean. You should - well, you should probably sit down.” 

*

“They’re making progress on a potion, you know,” Lily said, after sitting for quite a while in stunned silence. 

“What?” said Remus. He’d just told her everything - _all_ of it this time, the map, the Slytherins, Animagi, his monthly trips to the Shack - and he’d expected her to look horrified. Instead, she just looked thoughtful, and a little sad. 

“For lycanthropy,” she said carefully. “Not a cure, but a treatment. I was actually talking to Professor Slughorn about it the other day - an ex-student of his is experimenting with an infusion of wolfsbane.” 

“Oh,” said Remus, looking down at his hands. “I didn’t know.” 

“No,” said Lily, frowning at him. She let out a small sigh, and then suddenly threw her arms around Remus’s shoulders and pulled him to her in a fierce hug. Remus was a little startled, but recovered just in time to give her a quick squeeze back. She pulled away and gave him a wry smile.

“What was that for?” 

“Oh, fuck off, Lupin. You know what it was for. You just told me you’re a werewolf. That’s shit. That’s way too much to carry, on top of - well, on top of everything else.” 

“It is shit,” Remus said mildly. 

“Thanks for telling me,” Lily said gently. “Now - can we rewind to the part where you said James is a fucking _deer_?” 

*

“Show me,” said Lily.

“I can’t in here,” James said, and Remus thought he sounded quite upset about it; probably gutted to miss a chance to impress her.

“I can,” said Sirius. 

“Right, well just-” He was a dog already. Lily’s mouth dropped open. “Holy _shit_.” 

“It gets old after the ten thousandth time you’ve seen it, believe me,” said James. Padfoot came trotting over to Lily and sat down politely at her feet. 

“He’s not usually this well-behaved,” said Remus. Padfoot turned slowly, growled at him and then jumped up, knocking Remus backwards onto his bed. “Fuck off, _fuck off_ ,” Remus said, but he was laughing as Padfoot wrestled with him, trying to get his jaws around Remus’s wrist. 

“Oh god, this makes perfect sense to me now,” Lily said as she watched. “I hate that.” 

“Look, Lily,” Peter said, and suddenly he was Wormtail, running eagerly over to her and attempting to climb her leg. 

“Bloody hell, Wormtail, steady on,” James said, as Lily snatched him up in her hand and peered at him. 

“Wormtail? Wait, is this - oh my _God_. Those stupid fucking nicknames.” 

“Not stupid,” Sirius said. He’d transformed back but was still grappling with Remus, who only managed to get him to stop with the threat of a narrow elbow to the groin. 

“Yeah,” said James, puffing himself up a little. “We’re the Marauders.” 

“We’re the what?” said Remus, disentangling himself from Sirius and sitting upright. 

“Shut up, Moony. We’ll talk about it later,” James said, deflating.

“Show me the map,” said Lily, so Remus did. She let out a long, impressed whistle as he unfolded it, bending over it eagerly to study the hundreds of footprints currently criss-crossing the castle. “This is some seriously impressive magic, Remus.” 

“Are you not going to tell her?” Sirius said incredulously. “He did it _drunk_ , Evans.” 

“I wasn’t that drunk,” said Remus, blushing. “And I did all the prep for it sober.” 

“Oh, well, if you _prepped_ sober,” Lily said, rolling her eyes. “This is unbelievable. I can’t believe you haven’t put a concealment charm on this.”  
  
“I’m working on it,” said James quickly. Remus glanced up at him. He knew that James had absolutely, categorically _not_ been working on it, but it felt unkind to say so. 

“It’s not finished,” Lily said, turning it over and looking up at Remus expectantly. 

“No,” he said. “I think it’ll take us quite a while, but we’ve made pretty good progress since Christmas.” 

“ _I’ll_ say. So this house-elf, then,” Lily said, running her finger down the parchment and coming to a stop at the kitchens. “You haven’t asked the others who they were? Why they might have been taken? They’re the key to all this.” 

“Tried,” said Sirius. “Failed. They’re keeping uncharacteristically quiet about it.” 

“Hmm,” said Lily. “I might be able to help there.” 

“Yeah?” said Remus. 

“Just - give me a little while,” said Lily. “And I’ll get back to you on that.” 

“Great,” said James. “Thanks so much, Evans.” 

“You’ve got egg on your chin,” Lily said mildly, and Remus watched James’s entire face crumple in on itself. She got up, looking as exhausted as Remus felt. “Right. Keep an eye on the Slytherins. Try not to get murdered this week, because it’s my birthday on Sunday. I’ll see you all later.” 

“Bye,” said Remus, folding up the map as she headed for the corridor.

“Right,” James said, rounding on them all. “Why the _fuck_ didn’t any of you tell me about the egg thing?” 

*

“Hearing Dorcas get that letter was fucking horrible,” Sirius said as he and Remus walked down the corridor between lessons. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard someone _cry_ like that.” He shuddered and reached for Remus’s hand.

“It seems like it’s only going to get worse,” Remus said gloomily. “I feel like - I don’t know, like I’m always waiting for more bad news. It’s exhausting.” 

“There’s that sunny optimism I was after,” Sirius said, and Remus gave a humourless laugh. “Hey. Moony. Stop for a sec,” He pulled Remus over to one of the stone benches that lined the walkway. “You alright?” 

“Hmm,” said Remus. “Probably not.” 

“How did Evans take your - furry little problem?” 

“You’re my furry little problem,” Remus said, reaching out to try to smooth the frown lines on Sirius’s forehead. 

“That sounds filthy,” Sirius said, and Remus gave him a weak smile before kissing him, trying to relax into it as Sirius put an arm around him and pulled him in close. It was lovely - it felt so ridiculously wonderful and _easy_ \- but at the same time he felt a kind of melancholy he couldn’t quite name; it was like he missed Sirius already, even though he was sitting right there, one hand gently sliding up the nape of Remus’s neck. For the first time in six years, he wished they could leave Hogwarts and go somewhere else, somewhere quieter and safer, away from bad news and attacks at Hogsmeade and murders in the forest; but then, nowhere was really safe. Maybe that’s what the melancholy was. Some animal part of him instinctively telling him to keep his guard up, not to get _too_ happy, because he could lose the things that mattered at any minute. Just like Dorcas.

“What’s this?” Came a sneering voice from behind them. Remus broke away from Sirius and turned around; his heart sank when he saw Rodolphus Lestrange, flanked by Regulus Black, who was looking extremely uncomfortable.

“It’s called ‘kissing’,” said Sirius, his voice hard. “Wouldn’t risk trying it with Bella, though, Roddie. She’s probably the praying mantis type. You know - quick snog and a shag and then the females kill and eat the males.” He stood up, squaring his shoulders. “On second thoughts, maybe you _should_ try it-” 

“I suppose it was only a matter of time before you exhausted the most desperate Gryffindor girls and started rutting each other,” Rodolphus said. Sirius took a step towards him; Remus stood up and put out an arm to hold him back. “Now, now. Don’t get tetchy. Just because not everybody shares your _unnatural proclivities_ -” 

“I’d be very careful about what you say next,” Remus said, one hand already reaching for his wand. 

“Lestrange?” A voice called down the corridor; Remus jumped, then turned and saw Professor Slughorn poking his head out of a door and beckoning Rodolphus over. “Come here, my boy. I need to speak to you about this essay.” Rodolphus gave Sirius and Remus one last disgusted look before sauntering off down the corridor; Regulus made to leave too, but Sirius got in his way before he could.

“Get out of my way, Sirius,” he snapped. 

“You know what they’re up to, don’t you?” Sirius said. “Come on, Reg. This is fucking ridiculous. This goes way beyond _politics_ and - and _family allegiances_. This is some dark shit. The _darkest_.” 

“You have no idea what you’re talking about,” Regulus said, trying to get past Sirius and finding his path blocked again. 

“I know a lot more than you’d think. I know what your little _mates_ did in the forest,” Sirius said in a low voice, and Regulus flinched as if he’d been hit, then recovered and glared at Sirius with pure hatred in his eyes. 

“Nobody gives a shit what you think you _know_ ,” he spat. “Because you don’t fucking _matter_ , Sirius. You can play the big man at school, but school’s not going to last forever, and then you’ll be - you’ll be a sad, washed-up nobody with his tragic glory days behind him.” He stepped closer. “We burnt your name off the tapestry at home. Did they tell you? Mother did it herself. It’ll be like you never even existed. _I’m_ part of something bigger - something important. History will remember _my_ name. Nobody is going to remember _Sirius Black_.” 

Sirius was going to punch him, but Remus got there first; his knuckles collided with Regulus’s cheekbone with a satisfying weight. Pain shot up his arm as Regulus staggered backwards and then recovered himself, clutching at his face; he looked for a second like he might retaliate, but then he just turned and stormed away. 

“Ow. I think I’ve broken my fucking hand,” Remus said, wincing as he tried to flex his fingers. “How would I know if-” he turned to Sirius and then froze. He was standing with his fists still clenched, furiously trying to blink back tears, visibly shaking. “Fuck. Pads. Come here.” He used his good hand to guide Sirius down the corridor to an empty classroom, then closed the door and pulled Sirius to him. 

“Arsehole,” he said into Remus’s shoulder.

“I assume you mean him, not me.” 

“Him,” said Sirius. “Fucking inbred fascist old-money milk-fed _wanker_.” 

“And more,” said Remus, stroking Sirius’s hair, trying to get his heart rate down; his shoulders were so tense that he felt spring-loaded. 

“I wish I didn’t care,” Sirius said, his voice tight. “It’s not like I ever want to go home. They’re a fucking miserable lot, but I just can’t - get rid of them. I fucking hate that I have parents. That I have to _come from_ somewhere, and I can never make that - not true.” 

“You’re not from there,” Remus said, tightening his arms around Sirius. “You’re from here.” He wished he could burn the whole fucking lot of it to the ground - the house in Islington, Regulus’s cold indifference, the ancient Black family tree - burn it to ash, and then let it blow away on the wind, weightless and insignificant. But Sirius was right. It would always be part of him. Some scars you could see clearly, thought Remus, poking out of the ends of sleeves and cutting across brows, and some ran so deep and old that you could only catch glimpses of the edges of them. There were just far too many ways to hurt a person - and precious few to put them back together again. 

Sirius took a deep breath, wiped his eyes on his sleeve, then looked up and gave Remus a sad, twisted sort of smile. “I am really fucking fond of you, Moony.” 

Remus pressed his forehead to Sirius’s and closed his eyes. “Likewise.” 

*

Sirius got so drunk at Lily’s birthday party that he vomited almost continuously from eleven o’ clock onwards. He kept trying to kiss Remus, and Remus kept trying to get him to drink water instead. Sirius seemed to think that this was _very_ funny. 

“Hey,” he said, looking up from the toilet in the boys’ bathroom. “If I - if I were Padfoot right now, d’you think I’d stop - stop being sick?” 

“I think you might immediately die of alcohol poisoning,” Remus said, pulling Sirius’s hair back off his sweaty face. “I don’t think dogs have the stomach for this sort of thing.”  
  
“Dogs, no, and also - also neither do I,” Sirius said sagely, before vomiting again. After about an hour of this, he finally curled up on the bathroom floor and fell asleep. Remus made sure he was in the recovery position, then went to fetch blankets and pillows from the dormitory; he was just about to open the door when he heard voices inside. 

“This is a one-time offer, so don’t get too fucking excited about it.” Lily sounded extremely drunk.

“Birthday special. Got it.” James sounded, if possible, even drunker. 

“If you keep talking I’m going to change my mind,” Lily warned, and then Remus heard the creak of a bed, and the unmistakable sound of two people kissing. 

He crept slowly downstairs to the common room to procure a throw and some cushions - Peter was inexplicably fast asleep on the sofa without his trousers on - then took them back up to Sirius and gently cajoled him into a make-shift bed on the cold floor, sliding in next to him and putting an arm around him, trying not to properly wake him lest he kickstart the copious vomiting again. Sirius shifted in semi-consciousness, reaching for Remus and putting a hand to his chest. 

“Love you,” he mumbled sleepily. Remus froze. 

“What?” 

“What?” Sirius repeated back to him, sounding confused. “Shut up, Moony. S’bed time.” 

“Right you are,” said Remus, pulling Sirius into his chest and listening to the faint sound of James and Lily’s loud whispers and quiet laughter down the hall as he drifted off to sleep. 


	21. The Marauder's Map

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Important author notes:
> 
> \- In my headcanon Sirius is bi and Remus is gay but I must allow for Tonks so wcyd  
> \- Cornish Pixies only have wings in the films but ....... wcyd  
> \- I’m very deep in writing something else right now so there’s going to be a much longer wait between chapters as we approach the end but I'll do my best  
> \- Love you all very much, thank you for hanging out with me and these foolhardy boys for 21 chapters and counting xx  
> \- Today’s song is I Know A Place by MUNA

“I just think we need to have a - like, a code,” James was saying as Sirius gave up on his attempt to open the door handle by magic and started turning the screws the old-fashioned way. “Something that only _we_ know.” 

“You mean you want us to have a catch-phrase,” Sirius said, his tongue sticking out a little as he concentrated on his task. “Like _The Two Ronnies._ Except we’re the Four Ronnies, plus Evans now apparently.” 

“Who the fuck are the Two Ronnies?” James asked, perplexed.

“We’re getting a muggle television this summer, and we’re going to watch absolute shite until your eyes bleed,” said Sirius. “I had one for about a week last year until my darling father found it and _Leviosa_ ’d it into the ornamental pond in his rage. Killed all the fish, the prick. Aha!” The last screw fell into his hand, and he pulled the door handle clean off. “Just as I suspected. It’s not actually locked, it’s just the handle that’s charmed shut. But without the handle …” The door swung open.

“You should start a crime syndicate,” said James, clearly impressed.

“I already have,” said Sirius. “And you should know. You’re in it.” They shrugged off the cloak and raised their wands as they stepped warily into the room. It was one of quite a few locked doors around the castle that they had been attempting to break into as they worked on completing the map; some of them were completely impenetrable, but apparently whoever had locked this one up had half-arsed the job. 

“A password, then,” James said, peering around into the gloom. “A password to unlock it.” 

“Is it just me or does it smell weirdly like the Forbidden Forest in here?” said Sirius, sniffing again to try to identify exactly what the smell was. “ _Lumos_.” 

“What the _fuck_ ,” breathed James. It was like they _were_ in the Forest; the floor beneath them wasn’t made of stone, it was grass; they were standing on the edge of a thicket of trees, the tops of which disappeared up into what looked like the night sky. There was even a stream trickling away somewhere in the darkness. 

“This is great. This one’s getting a five-star review,” Sirius said, holding his wand closer to a mossy rock to inspect it. “Have you noticed that the air feels different? It’s like - like there’s an actual _breeze_.” 

“Imagine getting high in here,” James said dreamily as they walked further in. “All the benefits of a calming Forest atmosphere without the threat of psychotic centaurs rounding you up to be executed.” 

“Moony’s going to lose his fucking mind,” said Sirius. “Although he’ll probably want to poke around and work out where the river’s going, and what _exactly_ the magic is-”  
  
“You can’t bring him here,” said James, frowning. “I’m going to bring _Evans_ here.” 

“First of all, she made it very clear to you that you are not in a relationship in any way, shape or form. And second - we don’t have to come here at the same _time._ I’ll put a sock on the door handle. You know. If the tree-room’s rocking, don’t fucking come in.”  
  
“You took the handle off,” said James. “Can you hear a weird sound?” 

“Well I’ll put the bloody thing back on, first, so you know when not to bring your _imaginary girlfriend-_ ”  
  
“Shut up.”  
  
“Christ, Prongs, the odds that she’d ever let you snog her were so low, you should be thrilled-”  
  
“No, I mean - actually shut up, I can hear something.” James said, holding up a hand. Sirius stopped talking. Now that James mentioned it, there was another noise getting steadily louder over the sound of the stream. “It sounds like - is that-” 

“Wings,” said Sirius apprehensively. He glanced around at the treetops, looking for the source; and suddenly it became blindingly obvious.

“Run run fucking _run_ ,” James said, already sprinting back towards the door; Sirius followed, almost tripping over the same bloody rock he’d been admiring before. They reached the door and managed to slam it shut behind them just as approximately fifty Cornish pixies hammered into the other side. James braced himself against the wall, breathing heavily; Sirius leaned back on the door and listened as tiny, angry fists pounded against it. 

“Why would they keep those things in a _school_?” Sirius said as James shook out the cloak and threw it over both of them.

“Dunno. Why do they keep a squid the size of the Knight Bus in the lake, when they know we all swim in it?”

“Dumbledore just likes to keep things spicy, doesn’t he,” Sirius said as he considered the door handle and decided there was no point trying to wedge it back in without anything to hold it there on the other side. “ _Colloportus_.” The door sealed itself with a strange, wet sort of noise. 

“What do you reckon, then - for the map’s password?” James said as they made their way back along the corridor.

“‘It’s goodnight from me, and it’s goodnight from him’,” said Sirius. James looked utterly baffled. “It’s _The Two_ fucking _Ronnies_ , Prongs. Christ. Let’s go and tell Evans, she’ll get it.” 

*

“So you do this every full moon?” Lily said, watching as Remus pulled on a jumper. 

“Well,” said Remus. “Not exactly.”  
  
“Moony, what’s the point of me ever asking you to shut up about something if it only makes you _ten times more likely_ to talk about it,” James said crossly. He was sitting on the end of his bed, a large and conspicuous gap left for Lily next to him; she had taken one look at it and flopped down on Remus’s bed instead. 

“I’m still about ninety percent convinced this is the worst fucking idea in the world,” Remus said, sighing. 

“If you don’t trust us, which - fair enough, we’ve given you reason to doubt over the years - you trust _Evans_ , don’t you?” said Sirius. He was smoking out of the window, letting the freezing night air in and ignoring all of Peter’s pointed looks about it. 

“So you’ve never done this before?” said Lily, shooting a stern look at James.

“Sort of?” he said sheepishly. “Usually at least one of us is watching the map, and Peter and I haven’t actually - well, we know Moony likes _Padfoot_ well enough.” 

“Can werewolves be gay?” Peter said. They all looked at him. “What? I mean, like - is Remus going to be sniffing around after Padfoot, like you do when you’re human, Remus?”  
  
“I don’t fucking sniff around after him,” Remus said incredulously. “And I’m not gay.” 

“Oh, well, _sorry_ , I just thought-” 

“It’s not all or nothing, Wormtail. You can snog blokes and snog girls and it doesn’t mean you’re gay some of the time and straight the rest,” said Sirius, stubbing out his cigarette. 

“Yeah,” Remus said emphatically. 

“ _Fine,_ ” said Peter, going pink. “Can werewolves be _bisexual_?” 

“If we go all primal and start shagging in front of you, I give you permission to run,” said Sirius, getting up and stretching.

“Oi,” said James irritably. “If I see so much as a horny look pass between you, I’m out.”  
  
“How can a dog give someone a ‘horny look’?” said Remus.

“Like this,” said Sirius, transforming into Padfoot. He looked Remus up and down in an exaggerated fashion, and then slowly and deliberately raised one eyebrow. 

“I don’t think I want to be part of this plan anymore,” Lily said grimly. 

“Oh, come _on_ Evans,” Sirius said, human again. “Just watch the map. It’ll be fine. We’ll go for walkies, we’ll have a laugh, we’ll come back. If Moony’s footprints start straying closer to the castle and we’ve clearly met untimely ends, just - you know, wake up McGonagall and tell her to get out her big wolf-catching net.” 

“You said Professor McGonagall doesn’t know,” said Lily. 

“Well, think how exciting it’ll be to be the one who gets to tell her,” James said brightly. 

“I’m only doing this because I know you’ll just do it anyway if I say no,” she replied darkly, picking up the map and tucking it into her robes. 

“Thanks so much, Evans,” James said, grinning at her. “Seriously. You’re bloody amazing.” 

Lily considered him for a second, then walked from the room without another word. 

“Coming on too strong,” Sirius said sagely.

“Oh fuck off, you flea-ridden bastard,” James muttered.

“Got it out of your system?” Sirius said archly. 

James nodded sulkily. “Come on. Let’s go.” 

Sirius looked over at Remus, who was sitting on his bed, considering his hands. “Moony and I will meet you down there.” 

“Fine,” said James. “Pete?” They disappeared under the cloak and from the room. 

“You don’t want to do it,” said Sirius, sitting down next to Remus and wrapping an arm around his waist. 

“There are so many things that could go wrong that I am literally spoiled for choice,” said Remus tersely. “I can’t even pin one down to worry about, because it’s an endless clusterfuck of dire possibilities.” 

“Okay, well, counterpoints - you’re not going to hurt me. I really don’t think you’re going to hurt James or Peter, either. Last month as soon as you were out there in the open and you realised I wasn’t trying to bite your face off, you chilled right out.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I know.” 

“Yet more arguments in favour - this is why we became Animagi in the first place. We just got scared off by your amateur dramatics when cornered, but we should have been doing this all along. And most importantly - you actually had _fun._ You didn’t spend all night holed up in a shed tearing pieces off yourself. You didn’t get hurt in the forest at _all_.” 

“If the centaurs find us-”  
  
“Well, that’s why we’ll all be with you - and anyway, you can take that bunch of hemp-munching horse hippies in a fight.” 

“I can’t imagine Dumbledore will be too happy if I wipe out an entire herd of centaurs.” 

“Why the fuck not? You’d be doing him a favour. They’re _arseholes_ ,” Sirius said emphatically. “Listen, if you really don’t want to do it, we’ll call the whole thing off and take you back to the shack and we’ll - I don’t know, barricade the Willow so you can’t get out again.” He pressed a kiss into Remus’s neck. “But I think it’ll be fine. More than fine. I think it’ll be _great_.” 

“You think a lot of things,” said Remus. “Most of them are completely batshit.” 

“Oh shut up, you _horrible_ prick,” Sirius said, but he was smiling as Remus kissed him; he slid a hand up under Remus’s shirt and jumper, and smiled even wider when Remus responded by falling back onto the bed and pulling Sirius down with him. Sirius had noticed that Remus had eschewed his usual collection of cardigans and other assorted knitwear for one particular maroon jumper with a little hole worn at the sleeve, from where Sirius had developed a habit of sticking his thumb through it last year. He had absolutely no intention of asking for it back. 

“If we don’t leave now,” Remus said with some effort about a minute later, “The moon’s going to come out and you’re going to die in a very compromising position.”

Sirius removed his mouth from Remus’s collarbone. “Are we doing this?” 

“Yes. Come on,” said Remus, pushing him off and sitting up. “Before I change my mind.”  
  
“At least if we die, Moony, they can bury us all here in a line next to each other - and then we can come back as ghosts and haunt McGonagall forever.” 

*

At one o’ clock in the morning, everybody was still alive. Wormtail was clinging to Prongs’s neck for dear life, but they hadn’t lost him. Padfoot was careening along in high spirits, head thrown back, tail wagging. And Remus was - well, Remus was behaving more like a real wolf than he’d ever done before. There had been a certain amount of growling and boundary-testing when he’d seen Prongs - he was bloody _enormous_ with those giant antlers - but once Prongs had acted out a vague approximation of canine subservience, Remus had led them all off into the forest without even seeming to notice Wormtail, who Padfoot noticed was staying extremely still. 

_This is it_ , Padfoot thought elatedly as they splashed through a stream, splattering themselves and each other with mud. _This is how it’s supposed to be._ Remus shot a look back over his shoulder, seemingly to check if he was still there; Padfoot responded with a joyful little yip. Remus skidded to a stop, threw his head back and bayed into the night; Padfoot joined him, not caring if the centaurs or anybody else heard them. Prongs made a horrible sound, halfway between a croak and a scream. He thought Peter might have made a little squeaking noise, but it was impossible to tell. Remus gave one last howl, and put his nose to the ground and set off again into the night, his pack thundering after him. 

*

“Look at you,” Sirius said, as he helped Remus pull off his shirt. “There’s not a fucking scratch on you.” 

“Aside from literally hundreds of scratches,” Remus said faintly, leaning back against the bathroom wall. 

“Nothing new, though, right?” said Sirius happily. “Has that ever happened before?” 

“No,” said Remus, with a tired smile. “It hasn’t.”  
  
“Fucking hell. And we’re all alive. Even Peter. I’d say this was a bloody triumph. Do you want me to take your trousers off, or?” 

“Yeah, can you just-” Remus slid down the wall until he was sitting on the floor and gestured in the general direction of his body, and Sirius knelt down to take off his extremely muddy shoes. There was no point worrying about getting his hands dirty; they had all returned to the castle absolutely filthy. 

When Remus was down to just his pants, Sirius went over and turned the shower on, putting a hand in to check it was hot enough without being scalding. 

“Do you need me to stay and make sure you’re not going to drown?” He said, watching Remus get shakily to his feet. 

“Not going to drown,” said Remus as he stepped out of his underwear, holding onto the shower door handle for support. “But you can stay.”

Sirius looked down at himself. “I’m in dire need of a shower after you, anyway. I look like I’ve rolled in shit. I may have _actually_ rolled in shit.” 

“Come on. Get in,” Remus said, stepping into the shower and immediately sitting down on the floor, sighing as the water ran over his shoulders. “Just don’t get any ideas, because I’m barely keeping my eyes open.” 

“Course not.” Sirius pulled off his muddy clothes and deposited them in a pile next to Remus’s, and then stepped carefully into the shower. “Scoot your arse over.” Remus shifted forwards, and Sirius sat down behind him with his back against the wall, pulling Remus into his chest. “It was good, right? It was a good night.” He watched as the water swirling into the drain carried away the night’s debris, and felt the heat loosening his tired shoulders as he chased droplets down Remus’s arm with his fingers.

“Yeah,” said Remus quietly as he leaned his head back against Sirius and closed his eyes. “A good night.” 

“If you two are doing some kind of weird post-full-moon sex ritual in there can you fucking hurry up?” James shouted through the door ten minutes later. “I need to shower. I think I have mud _inside_ my arsehole.” 

*

“I have gathered you all here,” James said dramatically, “for a momentous occasion.”  
  
“You haven’t fucking gathered us anywhere, it’s our dormitory. We were going to be here whether you told us to or not,” Sirius said, opening a butterbeer for Remus and handing it to him. They were sitting in a circle, backs against their beds, Remus’s head on Sirius’s shoulder. 

“Tell your boyfriend to shut up,” James said to Remus. 

“You haven’t invited Lily,” Remus said, rubbing his eyes. Saturdays were the best days to recover from the full moon; he’d slept all day, long after the rest of them had risen from their morning naps and wandered down to the common room to attempt homework. 

“Yeah, well. This is - this is just for us,” James said, taking out the map. “She said we criss-crossed all over the forest last night, by the way, but we didn’t even get close to the edges. Top alpha work, Moony.” 

“You know I had no idea where I was going,” said Remus.

“Just accept the compliment, you daft bastard,” Sirius said, rolling his eyes.

“ _As I was saying_ ,” said James. “A momentous occasion.” 

“Have you charmed the map?” said Peter. 

“No, Worms, I have not. But I’ve worked out the charm - and we’re all going to do it together.” 

“It’s one of your weird franken-spells, isn’t it,” said Remus warily. “I told you they’re not safe, James.”  
  
“This one is,” James said insistently. “Trust me. Do you trust me? Fucking nod, Peter, I’m extremely trustworthy. Okay. We should all - we should all hold hands.”  
  
“How are we going to hold hands if we’re holding our wands?” said Remus.

“This is all a bit - _Famous Five_ on acid,” said Sirius. 

“ _Five All Form A Death Cult_ ,” said Remus. 

“Fine, don’t fucking hold hands, but we should all sit around the map,” James said irritably. They gathered around it, Sirius putting his butterbeer down at a safe distance. “The incantation is _repello intrusus_.” 

“Repello-”  
  
“Don’t fucking say it yet, Peter, this is very important. It’s a naming ceremony. The christening of the Marauders.”  
  
“Are we really going to be _the Marauders_?” said Remus doubtfully. 

“Yes. We’re Marauders, Moony. A brotherhood of rapscallions and thieves. We fucking maraud.” 

“Yeah,” said Sirius. “Like - like a pirate crew. Or a gang. Like a pack.” 

“I like it,” said Peter.

“Okay, fine, we’re the fucking Marauders,” said Remus, laughing.

“Alright, men,” James said in a low, important voice. “We are gathered here to create a document of record; a document that shall henceforth be used only for the purposes of mischief-making and fascist-catching; a map of Hogwarts, yes, but also a tribute to who _we_ are. To who we are to this school, and what this school is to us - and who we are to each other. Christ, Peter, you don’t have to put your face so close, I can feel you breathing on me. _Ahem_ \- we will use the powers of this map to make the world a better place according to our own judgement, and never show it to another living soul as long as we live. Except Evans, because she’s already fucking seen it. Agreed?”  
  
“Agreed,” they all repeated. 

“Okay, put your wands on it - on the count of three, _repello intrusus._ One, two, three-” they all said it as one, their wand tips igniting blood-red, scarlet light pulsing through the parchment and making it look almost alive for a second, before-

“It’s gone blank,” said Remus, his eyes wide. 

“Did it work, then?” said Sirius. 

“Only one way to find out,” James said, grinning. “Put a password on it, didn’t I.”  
  
“Not the _Two Ronnies_ thing?” said Sirius incredulously. 

“No,” said James, lifting the parchment up in front of him with both hands and closing his eyes almost reverently. 

“ _I solemnly swear that I am up to no good._ ” 


	22. Answers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Four chapters to go! Will all the loose ends tie up nicely? Will the plot make any sort of sense? Not even I know! Thanks as always for your kudos & comments

Remus had to admit that they’d all been doing a terrible job of keeping an eye on the Slytherins. He had lost too many nights to distractions - parties, the full moon, essays, clandestine meetings with Sirius - and it was unforgivable, really, when he considered what had happened. 

“You know,” he said to Sirius late one night as they sat up in the common room, homework scattered around them like the world’s least festive confetti, “I feel like - we talk about how shit it is that nobody cares about house-elves, but then, we’re just as bad. We’ve been letting them down. Being selfish. Imagine - if it were a _student_ who’d died, we wouldn’t be off having fun and only half trying to work out what happened.”

“If it were a student who’d died,” Sirius said, frowning over his Potions essay, “it wouldn’t be on _us_ to solve it, because somebody would have bloody noticed. Place would be swarming with wizard cops. And whatever the hell the Slytherins are doing, they can’t have found the passageways yet, or I reckon we’d all be very, very dead.”

“Call them Aurors. When you call them the _wizard cops_ I just think of - you know, that muggle band. Something about a village.”   
  
“ _Village People_ ,” said Sirius, without missing a beat. “If Aurors got to dress like the fucking Village People I’d be signing up right now.” 

“I thought you _were_ going to be an Auror,” Remus said, frowning.

“The closer I get to the looming fuckery of adulthood, the more I think - well, Prongs and I always said we’d do it together, but it’s not really my thing, is it? Following orders. Telling people off for breaking the law. Feels a bit hypocritical. There’s a good chance I might see some young rapscallions off marauding and say - ‘ah, you remind me of me, in my youth. Off you go. Try not to get caught by someone else, with actual job satisfaction’.” 

“James is just as bad as you,” Remus pointed out, skimming the map as he’d been doing every ten minutes and finding nothing out of the ordinary. 

“Yes but the thing about _Jamesy_ is that - well, first of all, I’m an absolutely terrible fucking influence on him. And b, he’s got this kind of - I don’t know, maybe it’s from playing Quidditch, but he has this loyalty and comradery thing that would make him a _great_ cop. And member of the Village People, for that matter. Plus - he likes to look after people.”

“You look after people,” said Remus, watching as Sirius vigorously crossed something out on his essay and managed to smear ink across the entire bottom third of his parchment. 

“Incorrect, Moony. I look after _you_ , because you can’t leave the castle without walking into a tree or falling over or getting kidnapped. James only needs the occasional nudge in the wrong direction, and oddly enough Worms does a pretty good job of looking out for himself. Mostly by scarpering at the first whiff of danger.” 

Remus had actually done more than his fair share of looking after Sirius recently, but no power on earth could have made him bring that up right now; there had been quite a lot of drinking, and passing out from the drinking, and needing to be hand-fed dry toast and water _after_ the drinking since Regulus had told him about the Black family tapestry. Fucking _Regulus._

“Do you want fresh parchment?” Remus said, frowning at the thoroughly ruined essay that Sirius was now attempting to _Scourgify_ non-verbally. “I can help you write it again, if you want.”   
  
“The thing is, I am actually fucking _great_ at Potions,” Sirius said crossly, giving up and pushing the parchment away. “Name a potion. I can brew it. Name any fucking spell, for that matter, and I’ll just - it’s the writing it all down that I don’t have the patience for.” 

“I know,” said Remus. It was true; he worked tirelessly for top marks, but he didn’t have the natural aptitude that James and Sirius had for magic. They’d all managed to get excellent OWLs - well, all except Peter - and Remus had tried not to be a little bit put out by the fact that his had been achieved through twelve-hour revision days and carefully colour-coded notes, while James’s and Sirius’s had seemingly come about by walking into the examination rooms hungover and managing to dazzle everybody anyway. 

“I think I’ve been let down by the system,” Sirius said with a sigh. “I need different learning techniques. I need - fucking - practical tasks and holistic teaching methods.” 

Remus looked at him for a second, baffled, and then it clicked. “You’ve been talking to Lily about this, haven’t you.”

“To be honest, Moony, she was being quite rude about me at first - _wasted potential_ , _squandered talent_ etcetera - she and McGonagall should form some kind of horrible motivational speaking business and send people howlers about how shit they are,” Sirius rubbed his temples as if his head was hurting him, leaving little smears of ink next to both eyebrows. “It’s all deflected energy, anyway. She really means that _Prongs_ is wasting all his potential. She keeps getting cross with him. She likes him a _lot_.” 

“Funny way of showing it,” said Remus, and Sirius snorted. 

“Right,” he said, raising an eyebrow, “because who else would spend all year fucking shouting at someone instead of admitting that he absolutely fancies the pants off him, _literally_ off him - literally keeps taking his pants off when nobody else is around, and sometimes even when people _are_ around, because said person is such an insatiable little-” 

“If you ever want me to do it again, I’d stop talking right about now,” Remus said, fixing him with a very stern look. It was hard to maintain. Sirius looked so ridiculous, with ink all over him and his hair scraped back on top of his head in a lop-sided bun, but somehow still so painfully _lovely_. The sharp lines of his face were softened by the firelight, and he had a week’s worth of stubble on his jaw, and Remus suddenly felt such a rush of affection towards him that he really almost said it - that thing he’d been tiptoeing around since Sirius had drunkenly mumbled it to him on the bathroom floor - before reigning himself in. 

“We’ll talk to Evans,” said Sirius, rolling up his essay and stuffing it into his bag. “She said she’d help, didn’t she? And she’s not the type to forget. She’s got follow-through.” 

“Yeah, she does.” 

“Do you want to go to bed? It’s - hmm, it’s nearly four o’ clock in the morning. I think if the Slytherins were up to any funny business they’d have stirred from their coffins by now,” he leaned over the map to check, and then turned to Remus. “What do you reckon. Mischief managed?” 

Remus had been so unbelievably tired, but all the talk of pants-removal had woken him up a little bit. He glanced at the stairs to the dormitories, and then back at Sirius, who was rumpled and exhausted and beautiful and looking expectantly at him for confirmation. 

“Hmm. Do you want to borrow the cloak and break into the Prefect’s bathroom with me instead? And we can - have a bath?” 

“Prefects,” Sirius said with an awed smile, shaking his head disbelievingly. “You’re supposed to be the best of us all, but you’re actually the _filthiest_ , and yet they stick a badge on you and give you the authority to do whatever the fuck-”

“Well,” said Remus, sweeping his things into his bag. “Are you going to sit there and talk shit until the sun comes up, or are you coming?” 

“Sorry, map,” Sirius said cheerfully as he picked up the parchment and turned it over to find the fifth floor. “Mischief absolutely fucking _not_ managed.” 

*

“James Fleamont Shithead Potter,” Sirius said the next day in the dormitory after dinner, staring at James and looking utterly aghast. “Are you wearing _contact lenses_?” He’d taken over half of Remus’s bed, ostensibly so that he could curl up next to him and read, but now he let the book fall from his fingers dramatically. Remus laughed.

“What?” said James, immediately going bright red. “Er. No?” 

“Yes you are,” said Peter. “I saw you taking them to the bathroom earlier.” 

“Why is it upsetting me so much?” Remus said, tilting his head to the side as he considered the general effect of James without glasses. 

“Looks like half your face is missing,” said Sirius. “Or maybe - is the problem that I can see more of it?”

“Can everybody fuck off,” said James stiffly, crossing to the mirror and peering at himself.

“It looks great,” Remus said unconvincingly, giving James a thumbs-up when he turned to look at him with an expression of acute desperation on his face. 

“We should have Evans up here way more often,” Sirius said, grinning and going back to reading his book. “Might open whole new doors for Prongs, vis-a-vis manscaping. Pedicures. Back-waxing.” 

“You should wax everything, as a Chaser,” said Remus. “To be more aerodynamic.”   
  
“Lily’s already up here all the time,” said Peter, sounding a little peeved. 

“No she’s not,” said James hotly. “And anyway-”

“Hi, Lily,” Remus interrupted, as she appeared in the doorway. She had changed out of her school robes into a floral crop top, denim mini-skirt and over-the-knee boots; Remus looked at James to see how he was handling this development, and had to bite back a laugh when he saw how unnaturally wide his eyes were.

“Hi, Lupin. Woah - _way_ too much face, Potter.” 

“Boots,” James said stupidly.

“What? Oh, yeah, I’m going - Mary and I are going with the seventh year girls to meet some Ravenclaws in their tower for a drink.” 

“Can I come?” James said immediately. 

“No,” said Lily firmly. She looked at Remus. “Is he drunk?” 

“Actually not,” Remus said apologetically. 

“Nice jacket,” she said, gesturing to the rather worn-in leather biker jacket Remus was wearing over his shirt; Remus rolled his eyes. 

“It’s mine,” said Sirius happily, slinging an arm around Remus’s waist. “It’s my jacket, Evans. He loves it. Look at him. He’s thrilled.” 

“He keeps asking me to wear it,” Remus said, feigning annoyance. “Like he’s some American varsity jock and I’m his perky little cheerleader girlfriend.” 

“When it’s _obviously_ the other way around,” said James. 

“You look beautiful,” Peter said earnestly to Lily, and she shrugged.

“I can’t do anything with my hair when it’s this long. I wish I could plait it or put it up properly, but I’m rubbish at it. Should have asked Mary.”

“Moony will do it for you,” Sirius said, picking up his book again and flipping through the pages to try to find his place. “He’s great at plaits now. He always does mine for me after-”

“Nope,” said James, throwing his hands over his ears. “I really don’t fucking want to hear it.”

“ _Well_ ,” said Sirius huffily. “That was _extremely_ homophobic.” 

“No it wasn’t, because I _told_ you I don’t want to know about what you two get up to in private, because you’re my friends, and it’s fucking weird, and I just _know_ you were going to say that it’s somehow for- _sex_ reasons-”

“ _James_ ,” Remus said, going very pink. James looked over at Sirius, who just grinned.

“See?” he said, removing the hands from his ears.

“What?” said Lily, turning around to look at Sirius. “How on earth can you plait _hair_ for _sex_ reasons-”

“Stop it,” said James. “Stop it now. I never want to see another plait again.”

“I’ll have a plait then, Remus,” said Lily firmly, pulling up a chair in front of the mirror. “If you don’t mind.”

It took Remus quite a while - Sirius’s hair was much shorter, and Lily’s was so soft that it kept slipping out of his hands - but eventually he managed it. James came over to have a look, and nodded approvingly.

“Okay, I take it back. It looks great. You look great.” 

“Really great,” said Sirius, appearing at his shoulder. “Of course when he does _mine,_ for _sex reasons_ -”

James’s entire face crumpled in agony. “Padfoot you fucking arsehole, do you have to ruin everything _good_ in my life-” 

“Didn’t you ask me to come up here because you wanted to talk about something?” Lily said, ignoring them all and getting to her feet to look in the mirror, turning her head to admire Remus’s handiwork. 

“Yes,” said Remus. “House-elves. You said you might be able to help.” 

“I’ve been working on it,” said Lily. “I know one of the house-elves who works in the girls’ dormitories. When I figured out who cleaned them in third year I started leaving them things sometimes, just sweets from Hogsmeade and notes and stuff, and this one house-elf actually replied and started putting fresh flowers next to my bed every morning. I’ve never actually met her, so I don’t know what she looks like or what her name is, but I’ve left her notes asking to speak to her and I’ve been waking up at odd hours trying to catch her while she’s cleaning. House-elves don’t like to break protocol - well, they _can’t_ most of the time, can they - but I feel like she’s probably more willing than most. Because they’re not meant to do things like leave you flowers. But she does it anyway.” 

Remus, who had known about house-elves the entire time he’d been at Hogwarts and had never thought to leave them so much as a single square of chocolate, felt instantly guilty. “Thanks, Lily.” 

“Not a problem,” she said. “I’ll let you know if I get anywhere with her. Anyway - I’m off. Cheers for the hair, Lupin.” 

James watched her go, looking so ridiculously morose that Remus felt genuinely quite bad for him. 

“I think I’m actually in love with her,” James said hoarsely. “How do you know if you’re in love with someone?”

Remus felt white-hot panic flood his veins. “Er,” he said awkwardly, looking at his hands. 

“If you think about her all the time and miss her and want to be with her forever,” Peter said wisely. 

“It’s just the boots,” Sirius said consolingly from where he was once again lounging on Remus’s bed. “They’d fool anyone.”   
  
“Yeah,” said James, not looking at all convinced. “Just those fucking boots.” 

*

Lily passed a note to Remus in Arithmancy a week later.

_Breakthrough. Common room at midnight tonight. Bring the cloak, the map and your back-up dancers._

When he showed it to the others, James looked like he might be sick. 

“You know it’s Valentine’s Day this week,” he said very seriously. “I think it might be the right time to tell her how I really feel.” 

“It’s not,” said Remus immediately.

“Fucking _Christ_ no,” said Sirius, at almost exactly the same time. “One thing at a time, Prongs. Solve the murder mystery, get the girl.” 

“It’s not exactly a mystery, is it,” said Peter. “The centaurs already told you what happened.” 

“Yes, but we don’t know _why,_ ” said Remus impatiently. “And we know the Slytherins have still been sneaking around the castle, but we’ve done a piss-poor job of keeping a proper eye on them, haven’t we?” 

“Don’t worry,” Sirius said, squeezing his shoulder. “Evans will know what to do.” 

*

“We’re not all going to fit under there,” Lily said skeptically later that night, as she eyed the cloak.

“We do,” James said earnestly. “We’ve got it down to a fine art.” 

“That’s just the four of us,”said Peter. “This is five.”

“I’ll be Padfoot, you can be Wormtail, Pete - it’ll be fine,” Sirius said, stretching out his arms as if limbering up for his transformation.   
  
“I can’t believe that of literally all the animals, you picked a _deer_ ,” Lily said scathingly to James. “How is that in any way useful? You could have been something small and inconspicuous. You could have been a _bird_.” 

“Birds are really tricky,” said James defensively. “They’re the hardest ones to get right, because humans have no frame of reference for flying-”  
  
“You fly. On a broomstick. Every week.” Lily took the cloak from him and pulled it over her shoulders.

“Not with _wings_ , though,” said James, as she put the cloak over her head and disappeared from view. He turned to Remus. “Not with _wings_.” 

“I know,” said Remus comfortingly. “Come on. Let’s do this.” 

Somehow they managed it, although James kept stepping on Remus’s toes in his attempts to give Lily as much space as possible, and at one point Remus almost tripped spectacularly over Padfoot’s tail. On Lily’s instructions, they made it to the doors of the Great Hall; Remus expected them to be spelled shut, but they opened easily enough.

“She said - there’s a storage room just off the teacher’s entrance,” Lily whispered. They walked the length of the hall to the staff table, their footprints echoing conspicuously in the empty room; Remus hadn’t noticed rain out of the windows during their journey downstairs, but there were now little flashes of lightning illuminating them from the charmed ceiling above them. When they found the right door, Remus signalled for Lily to hold back and checked the map first - the room seemed to be empty - before entering.

“ _Lumos_.” The tip of Lily’s wand ignited. They shrugged off the cloak, and Sirius and Peter transformed.

“Are these _Christmas decorations_?” Sirius said, as they all took in the stacked crates that lined the walls around them. Remus handed the map to Peter, who took it slightly reluctantly, so that he could lift the lid off a nearby trunk. 

“And Halloween,” said Lily, picking up a felt bat that had clearly been charmed to fly back in October; it gave a few feeble flaps of its wings and then stilled again. The trunk Remus had opened was full of little gold cauldrons; he recognised them as the gravy jugs from Christmas dinner.

“Well, this ruins the magic a bit,” said James. “I liked to think of them just - you know, appearing.”   
  
“Nobody likes to see how the sausage gets made,” said Sirius, reaching out to touch what looked like a ceramic reindeer; it tried to bite him, and he dropped it, swearing loudly as it smashed at his feet. 

“Subtle,” said Remus. “You know you probably-” Lily suddenly shushed him, holding a finger to her lips. He stopped talking abruptly and listened. Somewhere in the depths of the room, something was moving around. 

“Hello?” said Lily. There was a rustling sound, and Remus glanced at Sirius, who was frowning into the shadows. “It’s me. Lily Evans. From the Gryffindor sixth year dormitory.” 

The rustling stopped, and they all stood in silence for a few seconds, but then they heard quiet footsteps - and a tiny house-elf stepped out into the light from Lily’s wand, looking frightened. 

“Hello,” said Sirius. “You’re small.” 

“I’m Nixy, sir,” said the elf in a tremulous little voice.

“It’s alright, Nixy,” said Lily. “I’m Lily, and this is Remus, Peter, Sirius and James. We’re not going to hurt you - we just want to talk to you about what’s been happening.”

“You leave me cauldron cakes,” Nixy said, looking at Lily with such heartfelt gratitude that Remus felt extremely uncomfortable. What sort of a life must a house-elf have, even one employed at Hogwarts, if giving one a bit of cake elicited such intense emotion?

“Yes,” said Lily, smiling. “Thank you for my flowers.” She looked at Remus, who cleared his throat, unsure of where to begin.

“Nixy, a house-elf went missing back at the beginning of the year. Do you remember? Did you know them?” Nixy’s eyes went wide with horror - she stared around at them all, and then eventually shook her head. 

“But - come on, one of you _must_ have noticed that one of your mates was missing,” said Sirius impatiently. Nixy looked on the verge of tears; Lily shot him a look, and he held up his hands as if to protest his innocence. “Nixy, what about a house-elf called … Sukey? She was acting really weird at Christmas, did anything happen to her?” 

Again, Nixy looked utterly horrified - her mouth twitched slightly, as if she were about to say something, but then she shook her head again. 

“Pads,” Remus said, comprehension dawning just as Lily seemed to realise something too and glanced over at him, “I really don’t think she can answer questions like that. I think she’s been ordered not to.” The house-elf blinked at them, but didn’t shake her head.

“Okay,” said Lily, “Okay. Nixy - I won’t ask you to tell us what happened. We’re just going to ask you a few other questions, if that’s alright.” Nixy took a deep, shuddering breath, and nodded ever-so-slightly. 

“There are passageways leading out of the school,” Remus said slowly. “House-elves must know all about those, right?” 

Nixy nodded, seeming relieved that this was a question she could answer. 

“If somebody were to ask a house-elf about how to get in and out of the castle grounds,” said Sirius, “would you have to tell them?” 

Nixy immediately looked horror-struck - her eyes darted around the room as if looking for a way to escape.

“Ignore him,” Lily said quickly. “You don’t have to try to answer that.” She and Remus exchanged a look - clearly, this was one of the things she had been specifically ordered not to discuss. 

“If she’s been told not to talk about it, maybe that means the Slytherins have already found the tunnels,” said James. “Maybe we’re already too late.”

“We’re only too late if they actually managed to get an answer - that house-elf they killed clearly didn’t tell them, so why would any of the others?” said Sirius. Nixy made a whimpering sound, and Lily reached out to put a comforting hand on her arm. 

A thought had occurred to Remus; he felt his heart start to pound as he considered exactly how to word it in a way that the house-elf would be able to answer. “Nixy,” he said quietly. “How many house-elves worked at Hogwarts at the start of the school year?” 

“A hundred and seven, sir,” Nixy said at once, staring at him with her orb-like eyes. 

“And how many work here now?” 

She nodded sadly at him. Tears were spilling over onto her cheeks. “Ninety-nine, sir.” 

“ _What_?” said James sharply. “Eight house-elves down?”

“House-elves wouldn’t leave Hogwarts, would they, Nixy? They wouldn’t go and work somewhere else?” said Lily. 

“No,” Nixy whispered miserably, with considerable effort. “No, Miss Evans. They’re - they’re not coming back.” 

“Shit. I’m sorry,” James said gruffly, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a rather crumpled handkerchief, which he pressed into her hand; she gazed at in wonder, as if she’d never seen anything like it, and then began crying into it in earnest. 

“Thank you,” said Lily. “Thank you so much, you don’t have to answer any more questions. You’ve been a real help. You can go, if you like.” Nixy glanced around them all, sniffed, and then Disapparated with a _crack_ , causing Peter to startle so badly that he almost tripped into a crate of tree baubles. 

“They’ve killed eight house-elves?” Sirius said incredulously. “ _Eight_? All because they won’t tell them how to get out of the castle? I’d think that’s a bit of a lost cause by now, wouldn’t you? Why the hell would they keep asking them the same question, if they’re clearly not going to answer it?” 

“They’re not the brightest,” said Remus, feeling shaken. “Maybe they’re-”  
  
“Oh!” exclaimed Peter suddenly. “Oh _no_.” 

“What is it?” said James. “Pete?” 

Peter held up the map, and they all crowded round him to look; four tiny sets of footprints labelled _Bellatrix Black, Rodolphus Lestrange, Edmund Mulciber_ and _Nyle Avey_ were on the move, walking through the front doors and out onto the lawn. 

“Remus,” Lily said suddenly. “Do house-elves show up on this map?” 

Remus thought about the fact that the map had told him this storage room was empty, when it had clearly contained a terrified and cowering Nixy - he unfolded a corner to reveal the kitchen, which the map said was currently devoid of anybody at all. 

“No,” he said grimly. “They don’t.” 

“Right,” said Sirius. “ _Right_. I really didn’t want to have to say this, but - I think we need to go and tell Dumbledore. Right now.” 

“Fucking _finally_ ,” said Remus, with immense relief. “Let’s go.” 


	23. Out of Time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As penance for leaving such a big gap between the previous chapters and these ones, firstly I will be uploading two chapters today and two chapters tomorrow (and then the fic is finished!) and secondly you should uhh take a stroll back to Chapter 11 to see what's waiting for you at the bottom of that page now.

“He’s not going to be here,” Sirius panted as they all ran up the stairs towards Professor Dumbledore’s tower. “He’s never bloody here when we need him, he’s the Incredible Vanishing Headmaster-” 

But he stopped short as they turned the corner - they all did, pulling up so abruptly that they skidded a little on the stone floor - because Dumbledore was walking directly towards them. 

“Good evening,” he said distractedly. He looked like he was going somewhere in a hurry. Professors Weaver and Grubbly-Plank were rushing along in his wake.

“Professor,” James said, “Professor Dumbledore, we need to talk to you _right now_ -” 

“When I return, Mr Potter, you will have my undivided attention,” Dumbledore said, not slowing down on his way to the staircase. The teachers passed through their group and kept going, so that they all had to turn and walk with them to keep up. 

“But sir-” James attempted, half-jogging to match Dumbledore’s long stride. 

“I have been called from the castle to attend to urgent business,” Professor Dumbledore said firmly. “In the meantime, you may speak to Professor Slughorn, who I believe is sitting up in his office to attend to any matters that may arise while I am indisposed.” 

“But - so you already know, then,” Sirius said, feeling instantly relieved. “You’re going to the Forest? Right now?”

  
“The Forest?” said Professor Grubbly-Plank gruffly. “No, Black. These aren’t school matters. Now, run along to your beds - you’re lucky we haven’t the time to dock house points-” 

_“Professor Dumbledore,_ ” Lily said, putting herself directly in his path, so that he had to stop mid-stride. “There are Slytherin students making their way to the Forbidden Forest _right now_ , and we have reason to believe that they’ve been murdering house-elves - that they plan to murder more _tonight._ ” 

Dumbledore considered her for a second. “On what evidence do you make these accusations, Miss Evans?” 

“If you’ll just talk to the centaurs,” Remus said, stepping forward, “They saw it all, they-” 

“ _Albus_.” They all turned to see Professor McGonagall halfway up the staircase, looking more dishevelled than Sirius had ever seen or cared to imagine. Her hair was half-undone, and she seemed to be wearing a pyjama top under her robes. He made a mental note to store this image away for proper examination when they weren’t trying to prevent a murder. “Mr Nolan sent word. It’s _him_. He’s sure of it.” 

“You mean - Lord Voldemort?” Peter squeaked incredulously. 

“Then we are out of time,” Dumbledore said gravely. “You are all to go straight to Professor Slughorn to tell him what you know.” James tried to interrupt him, but Dumbledore held up a hand. “That’s an _order_.” 

He broke into a run as he descended the stairs, the teachers at his heels, leaving Sirius and the others all staring after him. 

“If Voldemort’s in Hogsmeade again,” said Remus, “That might mean - maybe they’ve found a way out. Or, a way to let him in. Maybe the house-elves finally cracked and told them.” 

“Come _on_ then,” Lily said impatiently, “You heard what he said. Slughorn’s office.” 

“Slughorn’s about as much use as a fucking chocolate cauldron,” Sirius said, shaking his head. “You think he’s going to come with us to the Forest, in the middle of the night? He’ll tell us we must have had a bad dream and give us detention and send us on our merry way.” 

“What are we going to _do_ then?” said Peter, looking frantic. 

“We’ll go,” said James. “Obviously. We’ll go, and we’ll stop them, and we’ll explain it all later.” 

“But what if-”   
  
“Come on, Pete,” James said, giving him an encouraging slap on the back. “We can take them. It’s just a bunch of _Slytherins_. No match for the fucking Marauders.” He glanced over at Lily. “Evans, you can be an honorary Marauder. Just for the night.” 

“Oh, well thank Christ, because that was going to be my next question,” Lily said, rolling her eyes. “Lupin, the map-”   
  
Remus was already unfolding it. “They’re at the edge of the forest. If they’ve got house-elves - or if they know about that passageway - we don’t have much time.”

“I’m wearing the wrong shoes for this,” Peter said morosely. 

“Pete, shut up and get in Prongs’s pocket before I murder _you_ ,” snapped Sirius. “I’ll run ahead. I’m the fastest.”   
  
“You can’t go by yourself,” Remus said immediately, looking up from the map. 

“ _Au contraire_ , Moony, I am very quick and very wily and I’ll probably have saved the day before any of you lot get there,” said Sirius, smiling tightly back at him. Remus seemed so fragile, sometimes, compared to the rest of them; no animal form on command, just his boy body, his scarred and very breakable human skin. It was ridiculous to think of a _werewolf_ as in any way delicate, but somehow he was. Sirius put a hand on Remus’s arm. “I’ll bite their scabby little ankles, although it’ll pain me to do it. You’ll have to help me scrub my mouth out. After.” 

“Yeah, yeah, he can give you a fucking erotic _sponge bath_ afterwards, just - _go_. We’ll follow with the map,” said James as Peter transformed and took a flying leap up to his hand. He stuffed Wormtail unceremoniously into his pocket and they ran for the stairs. 

“Hey, Moony,” Sirius said, tightening his grip on Remus’s arm.

“Yeah,” Remus said, attempting a smile and only managing a sort of grimace. “I know.” 

Sirius transformed and leapt down the steps five at a time, quickly outrunning the rest of them, feeling a strange sense of loss as he left the sound of their footsteps behind. The quiet of the castle was eerie, and entirely at odds with the urgency of the situation - would-be Death Eaters in the forest, Voldemort practically at the gate - and the thought made Padfoot speed up, his paws pounding against the flagstones as he made it to the Entrance Hall and threw himself at the doors to get them to open. 

It was pouring with rain, and in two seconds flat he was soaked through. It was impossible to shake himself off without slowing down, so he just barrelled ahead, barely able to see where he was going. It didn’t matter. He didn’t need to see. He could _smell_ them, although the trail was getting fainter as the rain pounded against the dirt. Bellatrix’s scent was more familiar than the others, but there was something else in there too. _House-elf_. 

Realistically, he knew he probably couldn’t take down four seventh-years who’d already demonstrated that they quite liked using illegal torture spells and stabbing house-elves to death under the moonlight, but if they were heading straight for that tunnel then he thought he might be able to lead them away - or at least buy the others some time to catch up - and then it’d be five on four. Easy. _Easy_.

The groundskeeper’s hut was the last building before the sloping lawn met the edge of the forest, and as Padfoot approached, he realised there was something enormous on the ground outside it. As he got closer, he began to understand what it was. 

Hagrid was lying flat on his back, clutching a large, pink umbrella. He looked like he’d been stunned. Padfoot couldn’t begin to imagine how many stunning spells they’d have needed to use to bring him down. He slowed as he approached the huge, prone form, and stayed just long enough to check that he was still breathing; having confirmed that he was, he set off again at full speed into the trees. They’d have to help him later. There were more pressing matters at hand. 

It didn’t matter how much time they spent in the Forbidden Forest, it was always somewhat of a mystery. Padfoot wouldn’t have been surprised to find out that it rearranged itself every night like the castle did, trees uprooting and moving a few feet to the left just to confuse them all the next time they ventured in. The first few hundred yards always felt familiar, but then it all became a tangle of moss and branches and rocky crags that appeared out of nowhere; Padfoot thought he recognised the route they were taking now, but he couldn’t be sure of it. 

The smell of house-elf was oddly strong, eclipsing everything else, and it was only getting stronger. He hoped it didn’t mean that the house-elf was hurt, or dead; he couldn’t smell blood, at least, which was an encouraging sign. 

He pulled up suddenly, skidding to a halt in the mud, and listened intently. He could hear voices. He crept slowly through the undergrowth, probably quieter than he’d ever been in his entire life, every nerve in his body taught and alert as he circled carefully around so that the voices were coming from his right; he wanted to get ahead of them, to drive them back, or at least get the chance to confuse and scatter them. 

Everything was starting to look all-too familiar, and Padfoot realised they were drawing closer to the spot where they’d found Remus after he’d discovered the house-elf’s body in that tunnel. Either the house-elf with them tonight had already told them where to find it, or it was leading them there right now. He was running out of time. 

He sped ahead of the voices until he reached a small clearing and leapt up into the enormous, gnarled roots of a tree to give him the advantage when they approached; moments later he saw the glow of lit wands casting long, unnatural beams and shadows through the trees, and the four Slytherins came walking into view. 

Padfoot was about to leap down, to start biting and howling to try to scare and disorient them, when he saw something that stopped him in his tracks.

They didn’t have one house-elf with them. They had at least _twenty_ . They all looked absolutely terrified, but they weren’t speaking or making any move to escape - they were trudging along with their heads down, totally dejected, not bound or enchanted in any way that seemed obvious at first glance. But then, thought Padfoot, they didn’t _need_ to be; all you had to do to get twenty house-elves to follow you into the Forbidden Forest in the middle of the night was to ask them to do it. You didn’t even have to ask nicely. 

As he watched, Bellatrix stopped in the middle of the clearing.

“This will do,” she said to the others. She turned to the house-elves, who flinched away from her instinctively. _Good instincts_ , thought Padfoot. “Stand together,” she barked. They didn’t need telling twice. They were already clumped in a group; at her command, they closed ranks, huddling as close together as they possibly could. 

They seemed to have no intention of going any further into the forest, and Padfoot found it utterly baffling. What did they hope to achieve with twenty house-elves that they hadn’t before with one, apart from a _ridiculous_ amount of clean-up if they were about to commit a grisly mass-murder?

Sirius backed a way a little and transformed, reaching for his wand with frankly no idea what he was going to do next. Mulciber was saying something to Bellatrix in a low voice, but she glared at him and brushed him off. 

“Now,” she said, a dangerously friendly edge to her voice, “You all know how to Apparate, don’t you?” The house-elves stared back at her. “ _Don’t you?”_

There was a general chorus of nervous assent. 

“Good. Take a very close look at where you’re standing right now. I’m going to count down from five, and when I get to one, I’d like you to do me a little favour.”  
  
“Doubt they know how to count,” said Avery, and Mulciber sniggered. 

“Shut _up_ ,” Bellatrix hissed at him. She turned back to the house-elves.

“When I get to one, I’d like you to do something very simple. I want you to Disapparate. And I want you to Apparate right back to the place you’re standing, right now. Do you understand?” 

One of the braver house-elves stepped forward. “But, Mistress Black-” 

“ _I don’t think my instructions could have been any clearer_ ,” Bellatrix said, flashing the house-elf a truly terrifying smile. “You are to Disapparate from where you are standing, and arrive back on the very same spot. As you have volunteered yourself, you can give a little demonstration. Do it. _Now._ ” 

The house-elf looked like every muscle in her body was telling her to run, but she had been given an order from a student, and had to obey. She took a deep breath, closed her eyes and there was a _crack_ as she Disapparated - but instead of appearing back on the spot she had vacated, she disappeared entirely. Where she had been standing, Sirius could see a strange shimmer in the air; a _warping_ that made it look almost unreal. Bellatrix cackled with delight. 

His mind was racing. He’d known somewhere in the back of his mind that house-elves could Disapparate inside the grounds - he’d even seen them do it - but if the Slytherins were trying to find a way in and out of Hogwarts, why would they not try to use side-along Apparition? What was this strange experiment going to achieve? And where the hell had that house-elf gone, if she’d followed Bellatrix’s orders?

“Now, I’m going to count down from five, and you’re all going to do as I asked,” Bellatrix said, backing away from the house-elves with her wand raised. “Five,” Avery, Mulciber and Lestrange backed away too, up to the very edges of the clearing. “ _Four-_ ”   
  
“You know when people ask if we’re related,” Sirius said, stepping forward out of the bushes, “I tell them it’s a coincidence - I tell them that Black is just a _really_ common name.” 

The Slytherins all whirled around and pointed their wands directly at Sirius.

“You think you can stop us, cousin?” Bellatrix snarled. “We, who have tapped into magic more dark and powerful than you’ll ever know?”  
  
“Yeah,” Mulciber said, rolling up his sleeves, “You’re just one idiot with a death wish.” 

“ _Five_ idiots with death wishes,” said James, as he, Lily, Peter and Remus stepped out into the clearing on the other side. 

They all raised their wands. Sirius saw Remus reach out his hand to the nearest house-elf.

“ _Run_ ,” he said urgently.

And then all hell broke loose. 


	24. Gone

Sirius went straight for Bellatrix, as Remus had known he would. They were both so powerful, both so _angry_ , that famous Black tenacity and single-mindedness taking over the moment they were in battle, and it was extremely hard for Remus to look away and focus on what he was meant to be doing. James was duelling Lestrange, Lily had Mulciber, and somewhere in the trees Peter and Avery were firing off spells haphazardly at each other. Remus was trying to get the house-elves to safety, throwing up shield charms every time a stray spell came rocketing in their direction. 

Just telling them to run hadn’t been enough - the Slytherins had clearly been very thorough when commanding them to come out to the forest, had probably told them not to leave under _any_ circumstances, and although they were fighting that compulsion it was hurting them to try to escape. 

“ _James_ ,” he shouted. “Tell them to go! They need all of us - tell them they’re allowed to leave!”

“ _Run for your fucking lives_ ,” James shouted back, as he flicked his wrist to deflect a particularly nasty jinx from Lestrange. 

“ _Lily_ ,” Remus called over to her, grabbing a house-elf’s arm and trying to force him to move.

“I’m actually a bit busy right now, Lupin,” she said, her voice straining with effort. As he turned, he saw her knock Mulciber flat on his back with the force of whatever she had just cast at him. She shot a look back over her shoulder at the house-elves. “ _Go_.” 

Some of the house-elves started Disapparating, loud _cracks_ filling the air, a few of them seeming to forget magic as they sprinted for the trees; but half of them stayed rooted on the spot, still unable to move. 

“ _Padfoot,”_ Remus shouted, his voice hoarse. He didn’t want to distract Sirius, but he’d just seen Bellatrix stumble behind a tree for cover, and it felt like this might be his only chance. “Tell the house-elves to-” 

“HOUSE-ELVES OF HOGWARTS,” Sirius yelled, so loudly that Remus actually flinched. “GET BACK TO THE CASTLE. FUCKING - _SAVE YOURSELVES_. FORGET WHAT THESE SHIT-MUNCHING SNAKE WANKERS TOLD YOU TO DO AND _RUN.”_ Bellatrix shot what looked like a curse at him, and he ducked out of the way. “In fact, while we’re at it, you should _never_ feel like you have to do what a _Slytherin_ says for the rest of your-” 

“Not fucking helpful,” Remus shouted, but it had worked. The house-elves were rapidly scattering and vanishing.  
  
“ _Get after them_ ,” Bellatrix screamed, pointing to the ones that were fleeing on foot - Avery and Peter had disappeared from view entirely, but Mulciber threw himself into the forest on Bellatrix’s command. Lily glanced over at James for a split second and then ran full speed after Mulciber, already raising her wand arm with a flourish as she took aim at his back. 

“ _Evans_ ,” James shouted, but she was already gone. Lestrange took advantage of the distraction to try to aim an _Impedementia_ at him, but Remus was already there, throwing up a defensive spell just in time. 

“I’ve got this,” he told James. “Help the house-elves.” James nodded, and then took off after Lily at once. He had dropped the map in his haste, and Remus itched to go and pick it up, but nobody else seemed to have noticed, and he couldn’t afford to take his eyes off Lestrange. 

Rodolphus was powerful, but he was far too cocky and dramatic in a duel - all Remus had to do was stay focused, ignore the showmanship, pay attention to the words Lestrange was speaking and forget all the rest. It was working - he’d nearly managed to stun him twice, was breaking through his defences - but then Lestrange hit him with an unexpected _discoperio_ , and while it didn’t succeed in removing his fingers, he felt all the skin on the outside of his wand hand tear off in a moment of blinding pain. 

“ _Protego_ ,” he shouted, his voice breaking, shielding himself as he tried to shake it off, blood pouring down his sleeve and splattering the ground beneath him. 

“ _No_ ,” he heard Sirius bellow. He wanted to tell him that it was fine, not to get distracted, but it was too late - Sirius was running towards him, casting at Bellatrix over his shoulder without even bothering to look. He felt Sirius slam into him and cast another shield charm, encasing them both in a bubble of protection, and then he was grabbing Remus fiercely by the shoulder.

“Okay? Moony?”  
  
“I’m _fine_ ,” Remus said, even though the pain was still pulsing up his arm and the blood wouldn’t stop coming.

“How _sweet_ ,” Bellatrix taunted, now standing next to Lestrange, watching them with narrowed eyes, “that you two blood traitors found each other. Do you _love_ him, cousin?”

“Yeah, I do, actually,” Sirius spat, tightening his grip on Remus. “Jealous, Bella? I’d invite you to be our third, but I’m not actually into incest in the way you lot are. Reckon some family traditions are made to be broken.” 

“ _Let’s kill him_ ,” Bellatrix hissed to Lestrange. He nodded. 

Before Remus had a chance to think, Sirius had pushed him away and shouted “ _Bombarda!”_ at the top of his lungs; there was a deafening _boom_ , and the ground in front of them seemed to split open as dirt and debris flew in all directions. Remus had fallen, but when he looked up he saw that Lestrange was also on the ground, reaching for his dropped wand, his hand outstretched. 

“ _Stupefy_!” Lestrange’s head hit the ground, and he remained motionless as Remus scrambled to his feet and joined Sirius. 

The two of them stood side by side with their wands aimed straight at Bellatrix, who had been knocked backwards in the explosion; she looked furious but grinned at them anyway, a stray strand of hair falling in her eyes as her shoulders heaved with effort. 

“What was the plan?” Sirius asked, taking a step closer to her. “What the fuck were you doing with those house-elves? What happened when they Disapparated?”  
  
Bellatrix laughed, and Sirius’s hand shook around his wand. “ _Crucio_.” 

She screamed in pain and fell to her knees, just as Remus shouted “ _No_.” He reached for Sirius with his good hand and shook him by the shoulder. “Padfoot. No.” 

“Listen to your boyfriend, _scum_ ,” Bellatrix spat. 

“What did you _do_?” Sirius shouted. “Why would you tell them to Apparate right back to where they were standing? Why did you need so many?” 

“Sirius,” Remus said, the realisation hitting him so hard that his vision blurred slightly around the edges. “The Ministry wizard. Apparition lessons. He said that if you try to Disapparate and Apparate on the same spot, you literally - you tear a hole.”

“ _What_?” Sirius glanced over at him, still looking perplexed. 

“That’s what you were doing, isn’t it,” Remus said to Bellatrix, who was still on her knees, watching both of their wands as intently as a cat. “If you break open this dimension, then the space that’s left behind isn’t in Hogwarts any more, is it? It’s not bound by the same protective charms. _Anyone_ could Apparate and Disapparate, as long as they were standing right where you ripped it open.” 

“It doesn’t matter what you know,” Bellatrix said, and she was grinning again. “It’s too late. The Dark Lord may not come today, but he’ll come tomorrow. And the next day. And the next. The more you fight, the more you’ll lose. Give up now, join him, and your lives will not be wasted. Try to stand in his way, and you’ll regret it forever. He will come for you, and your children, and your children’s children. It will _never end_.” 

“Shut _up_ ,” Sirius said, and Remus was taken aback by the amount of rage in his voice. “Why did you need so many? What happened to all the other house-elves you’ve been taking?” 

“They sneak around the castle like vermin; they know all the ways in and out, but they wouldn’t say. They _couldn’t_. It was old magic - magic created when they built the castle, magic _no-one_ could break. They regretted it. They all did. They wanted to tell us, but they couldn’t. Poor little things, how they scream and cry at the end.” 

“You’re fucking mental,” Sirius said, his voice shaking. 

“We found another way. They couldn’t show us a way out, they couldn’t take us with them when they Disapparated, but nobody ever thought to tell them not to open up the castle from the _inside_ , with the magic only they possess. We tried with one, at first. It wasn’t enough. We tried with more, but they barely made a hole.”

“So you dragged twenty of them out here to split this whole clearing open,” said Remus. “What happens when they do it? Where do they go?” 

“We don’t know,” Bellatrix said, shrugging carelessly. “It doesn’t matter.” 

“It _does_ matter,” Remus said through gritted teeth. “They’re _people_ , you despotic little-” 

But he stopped, and both he and Sirius looked wildly around at the trees, because someone was screaming; screaming like they were mere seconds away from meeting an untimely death. 

“ _Peter_ ,” Remus said. 

They shouldn’t have taken their eyes off her; Bellatrix saw her chance and took it, raising her wand at Sirius and shrieking “ _Avada kedavra-”_

Remus threw his whole body into Sirius, slamming him to the ground; he felt the very edge of the spell rush past him, brushing gently against his shoulder, and instantly his blood turned to ice in his veins. Dark spots were dancing at the corners of his vision; he thought he saw Sirius scrambling upwards, shouting a spell in response, but everything had gone strangely muffled, like it was very far away. It was so _cold_ . He wanted to say something, but he couldn’t remember what it was - or who _he_ was, for that matter. It was quite nice, the not-knowing. 

He felt hands on him, felt himself heaved upwards a little off the ground, arms around his shoulders holding him in place. He didn’t want to be held. He wanted to let go - to sink into the inviting darkness and leave everything else here behind. 

“Stop it, Moony,” someone was saying, but his voice sounded strange and broken. “Fucking stop it, open your eyes - _Moony_. Don’t _go_. I fucking love you, Remus, you have to stay here and love me too. Fuck. Wake up. _Wake up_.” 

Remus was so tired; he just wanted to rest, but thoughts came battling to the surface of his mind unbidden.

 _I know that voice. I know him. This is_ important. 

With every last ounce of strength in him, he opened his eyes. 

_Oh_ , he thought. _Sirius._

“You are crying,” he said, every word costing him, “into my mouth.” 

“Oh fuck you,” Sirius said, pulling him closer, his shoulders shaking. “Fucking _fuck you_ , you idiot. You were going to - you were going to die just so you didn’t have to stick around to clean up any of this mess.” 

The feeling was returning to Remus’s limbs remarkably quickly; he could feel his nerves fizzing and aching unpleasantly as they came back to life. 

“Doesn’t that sound even the slightest bit tempting to you?” Remus said into Sirius’s chest, and he heard Sirius laugh wetly. 

“No, you _prick_. We’ve got work to do. Supervillains to vanquish. I can’t fucking do it without you.” 

“Supervillains,” Remus said, frowning and pulling away. “Sirius, where - where are the others? The map. Get the _map_.” He fell back onto his elbows as Sirius scrambled to his feet and went to fetch it. He scanned it quickly, turning it over to find the Forbidden Forest - and then he froze, all the colour draining out of his face.

“What?” Remus said, almost falling as he tried to get up but managing to right himself at the last minute. “Pads? _What?”_

“James was here,” Sirius said, still staring down at the parchment looking ashen. “He was here, right next to Lily. But he just - Remus. He just _disappeared._ ” He looked up, terror etched in every line of his face.

“Moony, he’s _gone_.” 


	25. The Order of the Phoenix

Sirius knew that Remus was in no condition to walk, let alone run, but he was doing it anyway; Sirius had an arm around him, kept having to catch him and take his weight when his knees threatened to buckle, but they kept going. It was excruciating not to be able to transform and run ahead as Padfoot, to get there as fast as possible and see for himself that James was _fine_ , not dead, _obviously_ not dead - but Remus needed him, and he couldn’t leave him behind.

“Not much farther,” Sirius said, glancing down at the map crumpled in his hand. He couldn’t see any of the Slytherins on it any more. Peter seemed inexplicably far away, but that wasn’t important right now. Lily hadn’t moved. And James was still missing.

They pushed through a close patch of thicket and found themselves looking downhill, at a steeply sloping bank that led down to a small stream. 

“There,” Remus said urgently as if Sirius needed him to point that out; as if they couldn’t both see what was waiting for them at the bottom of the slope, illuminated by the moonlight. 

Lily, on her hands and knees, crawling towards James. He wasn’t moving. He wasn’t _breathing_. 

“Fuck, fuck, _fuck_ ,” said Sirius, his words scrambling in his mouth, dragging Remus behind him as ran downhill, almost tripping them both in his haste. 

Lily was covered in what looked like burns; the whole left side of her face was swollen and red-raw. They all reached James at the same time. His eyes were closed, and his glasses had half-fallen off, one of the lenses shattered. His hand was still clutching his wand. Sirius felt like somebody had punched his stomach clean out of his body. He was going to scream. He was going to be sick. 

“ _No_ ,” Remus said, reaching for James - but Lily pushed him out of the way, knocked James’s glasses off his face and leaned over him, tilting his head back as she pinched his nose and pressed her mouth against his. 

“What the fuck are you _doing,_ ” Sirius said wretchedly. “Evans. Lily. He’s gone - he’s _dead._ ” It was all so unreal that he suddenly couldn’t feel the ground beneath him any more. It was like he was floating, watching the scene from somewhere very far away. Surely this was a nightmare; he’d wake up any minute in the Gryffindor dormitory and James would be one bed over, throwing a pillow at him, saying something unforgivably stupid. 

Next to him, Remus had started to cry. 

Lily sat back on her heels, pressed her hands to James’s chest and started pushing down hard at short intervals, making his whole body jolt. It looked grotesque. Sirius wanted to pull her away, to tell her to stop - that it was time to let him rest. 

“He didn’t get the killing curse,” she said breathlessly, not breaking her rhythm. “I don’t know what it was that hit him, but it wasn’t _that_ \- he just stopped breathing. This is muggle first aid, it might-” She broke off, leaning back down to blow air into James’s open mouth again.

Sirius didn’t know how long he watched her. It could have been seconds, or hours. Dread was weighing so heavily on his chest that it hurt to breathe, but he couldn’t look away. He felt Remus reach for his hand and he held on tight, trying to use Remus to stay anchored as the Forest seemed to dissolve around him until all he could see was James, hopelessly dead, and Lily, desperately trying to breathe life back into him. 

It had been too long. Sirius didn’t know how muggle first aid worked, but he knew it couldn’t perform miracles. Distantly he felt tears spill over onto his cheeks, but he made no move to wipe them away. He was just about to say something - to tell her she’d done enough, that it was over - when Lily suddenly made a noise of violent disgust, and yanked her head back.

“What?” said Remus thickly. “Lily, what?”

“He … kissed me,” she said, horrified. 

They all looked down at James; his eyes were still closed, but he’d just taken a deep, laboured breath, and a faint smile was playing around his lips.

“Oh my fucking _God_ ,” Sirius said. James took another breath, coughing a little. Sirius tilted his head back and laughed with pure relief, tears still sliding down his face.

“You kissed _me_ ,” James croaked, and Lily let out one, short ‘pah’ of derision. “You said it was just that one time, but you did it again.” 

“No I didn’t,” she said incredulously. “I was giving you muggle first aid. You were _dead._ ”

“Well,” James said weakly, reaching for the hand that was still on his chest and patting it. “Whatever it was, it was very nice.” 

“James Potter, you absolute fucking idiot,” Lily said in a voice shaking with anger; and then she burst into tears.

“Evans. Evans. You’re a genius. I’m going to love you forever,” Sirius said, putting his arm around her; she didn’t try to pull away, just turned her head into his jumper and kept crying. Remus reached for James and squeezed his arm, as if to check that he was actually real. 

James was still looking unreasonably pleased with himself for a man who had only recently started breathing again. “Where’s Pete?” he said, wincing as he sat up a little. 

Remus wiped his eyes on the back of his sleeve, and then pulled the map from Sirius’s grasp. “Wait, he’s - oh.” He turned around, and Sirius followed his gaze; Peter was stumbling down the hill towards them, flanked by Professors Dumbledore and McGonagall, who were looking very grim indeed.

“All alive?” Dumbledore called sharply down to them. 

“Just about,” James said cheerfully. Lily pulled away from Sirius, looking at James like she might be about to hit him. 

Dumbledore reached them, looked around at their tear-stained faces and various injuries and sighed. “The hospital wing, I think. And then we need to talk.” 

*

“Do you remember that day when you called us ‘marauders’?” James was saying to Madam Pomfrey, who was currently attending to Lily’s burns. 

“No,” she said shortly, frowning and not looking at him.

“Oh,” said James. “Are you sure? Sirius and I were in here - he was bleeding-” 

“That doesn’t really narrow it down,” she said, handing Lily a mirror. “There. You’ll be a bit pink for a week, but no lasting damage.” 

Sirius had refused to let go of Remus the whole way up to the castle, and had no intention of doing so now. He sat with an arm around his waist, squeezing him supportively every time the skin-regrowing solution made Remus wince. 

“Alright, what’s next - raise your hand if you were dead,” Madam Pomfrey said, sounding extremely tired. James stuck his hand up immediately. Remus didn’t.

“Fucking put your hand up, Moony, you were almost gone,” Sirius said insistently. “Whatever you’re giving Prongs, give some to him, too.” 

“Who’s ‘Prongs’?” said Madam Pomfrey, raising an eyebrow before going to fetch the potion.

“Er. What?” said Sirius. “Nobody.” 

“Extremely smooth,” Remus said, leaning his head on Sirius’s shoulder and closing his eyes. 

“You alright, Pete?” James said to Peter, who was sitting alone one bed over. He looked completely ashen, and couldn’t stop shaking. 

“What happened? Were you with him?” Sirius said, and James sighed uncomfortably. 

“I went after Evans-” he started, and she snorted.

“For literally _no_ reason, might I add, as I could handle one idiot on the run perfectly well on my own.”  
  
“Well, whatever. I went after Evans, and we sort of cornered Mulciber. It was all fine, he’d basically surrendered, the pillock, but then Pete came running out of the bushes with Avery behind him, and it all got a bit … messy.” 

“You let him chase me,” Peter said indignantly, speaking for the first time since he’d returned. “You stayed to protect _her_ , and you left me on my own with _him_.” 

“I’m _sorry_ , Peter, but Mulciber was throwing out Unforgivable Curses - I still don’t understand how they all got away, anyway.” 

“Miss Black and her friends escaped through a passageway,” Professor Dumbledore said from behind them; they all turned to look at him. “A passageway that once led to Hogsmeade, although Professor McGonagall has since closed it permanently.”  
  
“ _What?_ ” said Remus sharply. “But if they knew about that passage the whole time, why were they bothering with the house-elves?” 

“I don’t believe they were aware of it,” Dumbledore said. “Not even _I_ was aware of it, although I’m interested to know how _you_ all came to learn of it.” 

“Then how did they find it?” said Sirius.

“Ah,” said Dumbledore, turning to Peter. “I believe Mr Pettigrew can explain.” 

Peter was now bright red and shaking even more than he had been before. “I remembered where it was, from when - from the last time we were there,” he said. “And when Avery was chasing me, I panicked. I didn’t think, I just - ran there. And hid.” 

_As Wormtail_ , thought Sirius, gazing at Peter in horror. He’d led them right to it. 

“Unfortunately, Mr Avery saw Mr Pettigrew take flight, and was able to discover the entrance and the nature of the tunnel for himself. He came back for the others, and they fled through it.” 

“Where have they gone?” said Lily. 

“I imagine they have gone to meet with Lord Voldemort. I myself have just been having a brief disagreement with him on the boundary of Hogsmeade, and he left in rather a temper.” 

“I’ll bet,” said James, looking awed. 

“Is Hagrid okay?” Sirius said, suddenly remembering; Professor Dumbledore smiled. 

“He is currently recovering in his house. I left him quite a lot of brandy, which I think he’s finding a great help.” 

“What about - sir, Snape knew all about this,” said James. He threw a guilty look at Sirius. “And I think - Regulus Black, he’s been hanging around with them too.” 

“Mr Snape and Mr Black were both in the Slytherin common room all night, with many witnesses who can attest to this fact. Professor Slughorn has just been speaking to them all now.” 

“But they-”

“That is the _end_ of it on this occasion, I’m afraid, Mr Potter,” Dumbledore said sternly. He looked around at them all, and sighed. “I’ll not mince my words. We are at war, and there is no end in sight. Voldemort is only growing stronger, and the Ministry are not succeeding in their efforts to keep him at bay. I’m afraid that attacks on innocent people - on muggles, muggle-borns, anyone who tries to stand in his way - are becoming commonplace. Everyday occurrences.” 

“We want to fight,” said James, trying to sit up properly. “We want to help you.” Madam Pomfrey immediately spotted him from across the ward. 

“You were dead half an hour ago, Potter,” she called warningly. “Don’t push it unless you found that state of being particularly agreeable.” 

James slumped back into the bed, but his eyes were still bright and eager. “We do, Professor. We want to fight Voldemort. We’ll do whatever you need.” 

“I don’t doubt it,” said Dumbledore, smiling at him. “You have all shown great bravery tonight. Stupidity, too, perhaps, but it’s difficult to have one without a little of the other.” 

Remus laughed quietly into Sirius’s shoulder.

Dumbledore lowered his voice. “I believe, and have believed some time now, that it is up to all of us to do what the Ministry cannot. This is not a war that will be won by the Minister for Magic and his Aurors, competent as they may be. This is a war that requires _everybody_ to stand up and fight. I have been gathering a group of talented witches and wizards - people with all sorts of skills, those who can duel, those adept at going unnoticed, strategists, researchers - to do precisely that. I’d like to start meeting regularly with you and some of the other students I’ve already spoken to; Miss Meadowes, for example, and Miss McKinnon. And when you have finished at school - yesk, I think you _must_ finish your education, Mr Potter, and I will not be argued with on that point - I would be honoured if you would consider joining me properly.” 

“Yes,” said Lily. “Yes, we want to join you.” 

“ _Definitely,”_ said Sirius. He nudged Remus. “Right, Moony?” 

“If you want me,” Remus said slowly, looking at Dumbledore with a question in his eyes. The headmaster inclined his head very slightly. 

“Mr Pettigrew?” Peter gave one, quick nod. “I believe I know _your_ feelings on the matter, Mr Potter.”

“Just to be very clear, sir, I am _so_ fucking in,” said James, and Lily rolled her eyes. 

“Excellent,” said Professor Dumbledore. He stepped closer, and they all leaned in, closing ranks around him. 

“In that case, it’s time we had a little chat about the Order of the Phoenix.” 


	26. Moony's Birthday

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can listen to Mystery of Love by Sufjan Stevens while you read this one, if you like.

Remus hadn’t felt like celebrating his birthday. They had all been so exhausted after the events in the Forbidden Forest that they’d had to take a week off classes at Madam Pomfrey’s insistence, and since they’d been back in lessons it had taken all of his very limited energy just to catch up. They spent their evenings collapsed around the fire in the common room under piles of homework, still fielding questions from other curious Gryffindors who’d heard some of what had happened and wanted them to fill in the gaps, but they had all sworn to Dumbledore that they wouldn’t speak a word of it. Remus was getting tired of having to deflect and change the subject, but Sirius seemed to revel in it, coming up with increasingly rude responses every time they were approached.

They’d had a relatively quiet full moon, and Remus had genuinely forgotten that it was nearly the tenth of the month until Sirius had woken him up one morning by landing painfully on his legs and staring down at him while Remus blinked blearily at him from under a pile of blankets.

“What the fuck?” he said enquiringly, and Sirius grinned.

“Birthday. Tomorrow. _Seventeen_ , Remus.”

“Ugh,” Remus said, pulling the covers up over his head. “Don’t remind me.”  
  
“None of that, Moony. You’ve got to have a birthday,” Sirius said, yanking them back off him. “What should we do?” 

“Prank?” said James from his bed, but Remus could tell his heart wasn’t in it. 

“I feel like I’ll never forgive myself for this, but I just don’t have it in me,” Sirius said sadly. “Could do a little one, maybe. Put Wormtail in someone’s pocket.” 

“No,” said Peter, looking grumpy. He was _always_ grumpy these days; Remus thought he still hadn’t quite forgiven James for abandoning him in the Forest. 

“Party?” said James, and Sirius tilted his head to one side as he considered it. 

“Hmm. I don’t much fancy every nosy git in the castle lining up to interview us about what happened like they’re writing an article for the _Prophet._ ” 

“Definitely not,” said Remus darkly. 

“Let’s do something with just us,” said James. “Just the Marauders.” 

“And Lily,” said Remus. 

“Like I said. Just the Marauders.” 

“She’s not a Marauder, Prongs,” Sirius said sternly. 

“She fucking is, and you know it.” 

“Honorary title only,” Sirius conceded. “She doesn’t get a nickname.”

“She’ll be gutted, Pads. She’ll cry and cry and cry,” James said, grinning at him. 

“Weather’s supposed to be nice tomorrow,” said Remus, giving in and sitting up in bed. “Picnic?” 

“ _Perfect_ ,” said Sirius, leaning forward to kiss him. “I fucking _love_ a picnic.” 

The weather was just as good as promised, and they all had a free period after lunch. James and Lily disappeared after Defence Against the Dark Arts and returned from the kitchens absolutely laden with food, struggling to carry it even between the two of them. 

“The house-elves are - er - _extremely_ happy with us right now,” James said when they met in the Entrance Hall, dropping a box full of brightly-coloured macarons as he tried to shift it in his arms; Remus managed to _wingardium leviosa_ it just before it hit the ground. 

“You lot take this out to the lake,” Sirius said. “I want to talk to Moony.” 

“Thanks for your help,” James said, rolling his eyes and shoving some of the food into Peter’s arms. “Use protection,” he called over his shoulder as the three of them headed out of the front doors. “I dread to think what kind of hybrid beast you might end up birthing otherwise.” 

“Go fuck yourself, Prongs,” Sirius called happily after him. “Come on, Moony.” He took Remus by the hand and led him outside, too; instead of following the others down the slope to walk around the lake, they stopped at the overlook directly in front of the castle. Remus could see the giant squid propelling itself lazily along just below the surface of the water, enjoying the rare wintry sun. There were quite a lot of people taking advantage of the weather, strolling about in groups, skimming stones on the lake and eating on the lawn. 

“Got you a present,” said Sirius, producing a package. “Well, I didn’t actually _get_ it, I sort of inherited it.” 

“Something really fucked-up and dark, then, is it?” said Remus, taking it from him and turning it over in his hands. It was small and flat, but it seemed to have some sort of handle sticking out of it. 

“Yeah, it’s a severed head, I thought you’d really like that,” said Sirius drily. “Just fucking open it.” 

Remus laughed, and did. It was a small silver mirror, with ornate floral designs framing the glass; he studied himself in it for a second, and then looked back up at Sirius, baffled.

“It’s - it’s great,” he said, “but I don’t need to check my hair every ten seconds. I’m not Prongs.” 

“It’s not a normal mirror, you dolt,” said Sirius, and he pulled an identical one out of his pocket. “It’s a two-way mirror. You just say my name into it, and we’ll be able to see each other - talk to each other. I swiped them from number twelve for me and James last year, so we could talk in detention, but … I want you to have it. For when you go home for Easter. And over the summer.” 

Remus tightened his grip around the mirror. “That is … actually quite sweet,” he said, feeling embarrassingly emotional. “I don’t really know what to do with that.” 

“Fuck off, Moony, I’m always sweet,” Sirius said, putting a hand to his waist and pulling Remus towards him. “I’m an angel. I’m a _delight_.” 

“You’re a nightmare,” said Remus, but he was already leaning in and closing his eyes. He was still shattered, still reeling from the shock of everything that had happened, but when it all got too much there was always _this._ Kissing Sirius. Holding Sirius’s hand in the hallways. Falling asleep in his lap in the common room after the full moon, and waking up with Sirius’s fingers still stroking his hair. 

He pulled away and slipped the mirror into his pocket. “Thank you. For the present, I mean. Sorry I made fun. I love it.” 

“And?” said Sirius, raising an eyebrow at him. 

“What?” Remus said, going a bit pink. He actually knew exactly _what._ He’d said it in the Forest when they were all stumbling back towards the castle; he’d said it later, in the hospital wing, muffled against Sirius’s collar. He hadn’t said it since, though - had felt shy and awkward about it for some reason, like he’d somehow said too much. 

“ _And_?” Sirius said, crossing his arms petulantly. 

“And - for fuck’s sake, you don’t have to be such a - _fine_. And I love _you._ ” 

“Damn fucking right you do,” said Sirius, grinning and grabbing his arm. “Come on. I am _starving_.” 

Peter was staring out across the lake and James and Lily were somehow already arguing about something, but they stopped when Sirius and Remus approached; Remus noticed that despite all their bickering, Lily had her hand on James’s knee. She didn’t bother removing it when they sat down.

“Cake,” she said, handing Remus a slice. “Happy birthday, Lupin. You made it. Seventeen. It’s quite honestly a miracle.” 

“Here here,” said James, raising his own cake in a toast like it was a glass of champagne. “To Moony! Genius, map-maker, snogger of dirty dogs - look, I’m sorry, Pads, but facts are facts - he’s a top-notch Marauder, and the best of us all.” 

“To Moony,” they chorused, while Remus rolled his eyes and stared determinedly down at his plate. They ate in companionable silence for a few moments, and then James sighed. 

“Shit age to fight in a war,” he said, and Remus snorted. 

“Is there ever a good age to fight in a war?” 

“S’pose not,” said James. “Wish we could do it when we’re a bit older, though. Give us some time to get really muscly and terrifying.” 

“We’ll be alright,” said Sirius. “And if we do happen to pop our clogs, Evans is on hand to bring us right back to life.”  
  
“I am not putting my mouth anywhere near yours,” said Lily. “I’ve seen where you put it.” 

“Oi,” said Sirius, sounding outraged. “It’s Moony’s birthday, you can’t talk about him like that.” 

“I mean when you’re a _dog_ ,” said Lily, exasperated. “You _lick_ yourself, Black.” 

“Only a bit,” said Sirius.

“You’re all idiots,” said Lily, as James reached into a basket and pulled out butterbeers for everyone, opening them with his wand and passing them round. 

“We are idiots,” said Remus thoughtfully after he’d taken a swig. “But - I honestly can’t imagine a better bunch of idiots to fight beside. If we’ve got to do this - and fuck, I really think we do - I wouldn’t have it any other way.” 

“Well fucking said,” said Sirius, reaching for Remus’s hand and squeezing. Remus saw Lily glance at James and screw up her nose up at him fondly; he beamed back at her in response. 

It was a beautiful day. There was so much work to do - Dumbledore had already called them in for a meeting, had already told them some of what would be expected of them now - and Remus couldn’t even begin to imagine how hard it would be. But he didn’t have to think about it right now. It could wait. It could wait until tomorrow. 

“Happy birthday, Moony. Oh shit _,_ we haven’t sung! We have to _sing._ Don’t look at me like that, it’s tradition. Everybody ready? You don’t have to sing in _tune_ , Worms, you just have to give it your best effort. Prongs, are you listening to me? Fucking look in my direction, then, I’m not a mind reader. Okay. On the count of three. One, two, three-” 

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for coming along with me on this madcap lockdown venture. If you enjoyed reading this fic, please consider donating to Mermaids, a charity that supports gender-diverse kids and their families (mermaidsuk.org.uk) or another similar organisation in your area. Trans rights are human rights, love you all, farewell from THE LADS, and farewell from me x


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